


Moonraker

by sorion



Series: Moonraker [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Character Development, Character Study, DNA alteration, M/M, Romance, Some adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 61,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorion/pseuds/sorion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Captain... you do not suggest that I am anything but the sum of my genetic programming, surely?” He chuckles, darkly, feels the anger and fury course through him like a steady electrical surge. It is palpable. He can almost <i>taste</i> it on his tongue. “I assure you, Captain, this is who I am.”</p><p>COMPLETED</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark Awakening (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> **AN:** This is a fix-it for Khan. If you don’t like canon characters genetically tampered with and developed, don’t read it. (Apart from that, I will do my best to keep Khan – and everyone else – in character.)  
>  I’m taking my time with this. There will be no overnight solution. This one takes more than a wave with a wand.

He is waking up. He can feel it. His mind is ahead of his body in the process because it lets him appear inoffensive for longer, while in truth he is already waking bit by bit, muscle by muscle, without any potential threat being any the wiser.

He assesses his body’s status. He is clearly not waking from a natural sleep or even a sedative. He is waking from a cryo-stasis, even though the longer his brain is working, the more memories return, and he remembers fighting and being stunned. Repeatedly. He remembers... 

... He remembers...

_300YearsFederationMarcusSection31ExperimentsVengeanceEnterpriseKirk **HisCrew**!_

His crew!

His eyes fly open.

He can see the bright, white ceiling of a Federation cell. He knows the relentless design.  
It hasn’t been long, then...

He turns his head towards the side where he knows the glass is (unbreakable even for him) and whoever is holding him captive behind... Bile rises in his throat, his eyes darken.

“Kirk.”

“Good morning.” The man has the audacity to smile.

Khan immediately sits and swings his legs over the edge of the bed he is lying on. His clothing is as white as the ruthlessly blinding environment. 

He knows the doctor standing close to Kirk, and he remembers the muffled words of the woman as she tried to stun him before he lost consciousness. Knows their odious, undeniable meaning.  
The mere thought that _his_ blood has been used to revive the man standing unrepentant in front of him, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, makes his ears roar, his body tense, his heart constrict... makes every single cell of his body prepare for battle.  
“ _You_!” he growls, not caring to hide his hatred, having been robbed of another possibility to manipulate this malleable, pitiful human.

He stands and moves to bang his fists against the glass in an instant, making the armed, red-shirted guards raise their weapons in alarm. Kirk stands his ground and doesn’t so much as blink.

“You killed them!” Khan yells in a short burst that he cannot hold back. Then he drives his anger to take control of his body, calms its reactions and searches Kirk’s eyes, not allowing the other man to look anywhere but into the depth and blackness that he can feel oozing from his own. 

Kirk’s smile disappears.

Khan’s voice is low, dark and personal when he continues. “They have done nothing to you, and you _murdered_ my people.”  
He wants to let Kirk know how very much this makes them alike, puts them at the same low-point of morality, the same cursed place from which nobody can ever rise...

“Your crew is fine, Mister Singh,” Kirk says, his voice assertive, calm and even.

Khan’s next words die in his throat. This is not possible. They were his torpedoes. _His_! He knows this beyond the shadow of any doubt!  
He narrows his eyes. Kirk is _mocking_ him! Mocking his pain, his loss. The loss of his family.

Kirk refuses to move or back down or admit his cruel lie, and Khan can feel his traitorous heartbeat speed up and his chest rise and fall in uncontrollable gulps of painful and useless _hope_. He forces both down. His face loses all expression, but he cannot keep the quiver of rage out of his voice.  
“If you believe for even a moment that I will let you use your petty lies to manipulate me and do your bidding, you are sorely mistaken, Captain.” He remembers what he has done to the last person who has tried to use him in such a way, and it grants him a brief flash of satisfaction.

Kirk remains unperturbed. He turns slightly to the side. “Bones.”

The doctor – _Bones_ ; Khan can only assume that it is proof of affection and familiarity between the men – takes half a step away from the console he is monitoring and faces him.

“We had strong reasons to believe that you would betray us... _as you then proceeded to do_ ,” the doctor adds the last part with a sarcastic, raised eyebrow, before he continues, “... so Commander Spock ordered the appropriate measures be taken.”

“Clarify,” Khan demands.

“All cryo-tubes were removed from the torpedoes before we activated them.” He gives a sardonic half-smile. “And since you so helpfully dared us to open one, before, we already knew how to do it.”  
He nods sideways, urging Khan to follow his line of sight to a screen to his left.  
“All seventy-two of them are currently safely within this facility.”

Khan cannot but stare at the image of thirty-six cells similar to his own, holding tubes that do indeed look like the ones he is so eerily familiar with. He searches for signs that the images are manipulated, that the tubes are mere copies, that the machinery is not live...

“Do I have your attention, now?” Kirk asks.

Having found nothing to disprove Kirk and the doctor’s claim, he returns to look at the man. Even the slightest chance that they are telling the truth is worth exploring. The slightest, most traitorous...  
“What is it you want?” Khan asks, before his thoughts can lead him into yet another impasse. “Why did you revive me?”

The doctor returns to his console and Kirk... oddly... takes a deep breath as if steadying himself, then licks his lips and stares at the floor for a long moment.

“Out with it! I am in no mood for more games! You and your governments, your scientists, your Federation and your admirals. You have _used_ and played me at every given chance, from the moment of my conception, only to then revert your own blame onto me.” Kirk looks up at that. “I would rather you killed me right now than have _you_ be my next puppet master, _Captain Kirk_ ,” he spits out the name as if both name and title were an insult.

Kirk nods, slowly, then clears his throat. “Point taken.”

Khan frowns. The man does not react as he expects him to, as he _knows_ him to.

Kirk straightens and squares his shoulders. “Most of the records from the time of your... conception,” he says, using Khan’s own word, “have been lost.” He pauses, waiting for a reaction. When none follows, he continues. “But Section 31 knew who you were when they revived you, so we were reasonably sure that some of the material had to have been recovered. We found what little of it was left, and...” He pauses, again, his expression sour. Or perhaps painful. “And you’re right.”

Khan doesn’t reply. He just waits. This is nothing new to him.

Kirk shares an uncomfortable look with the doctor before returning to look at his prisoner. “You... were _designed_.” He does not appear as if he likes the word he is forced to use by facts. “Not only to be mentally and physically superior, but... to be ruthlessly aggressive. Single-minded. They have added savagery, as you called it, to your DNA.”

Khan is vaguely amused by that analysis, but he waits for Kirk to continue.

“And then Marcus used you, like your creators did.” He licks his lips again. “You never had a choice.”

At that, Khan’s grin can no longer be held back. “Captain... you do not suggest that I am anything but the sum of my genetic programming, surely?” He chuckles, darkly, feels the anger and fury course through him like a steady electrical surge. It is palpable. He can almost _taste_ it on his tongue. “I assure you, Captain, this is who I am.”

“Jim...”

Kirk turns to the doctor and looks at the monitor, frowning. 

“Lights up like a damn Christmas tree when he’s angry,” the doctor grumbles, though still clearly audible for Khan.

Kirk straightens. “Show him.”

The doctor blinks. “Jim, I don’t think...”

“Show him,” Kirk repeats. “Show him his readings. Show him what his programming is doing to him.”

The doctor does not appear to be happy about that, but he does as he’s asked, and then lets Khan know with a histrionic hand movement that his cell monitor is showing him what the Captain wanted him to see.

Khan hesitates, then, angry at his own reaction, complies. After a moment, he frowns, unsure what the reading is meant to tell him. He walks closer, seeing strings of DNA and the corresponding timeline since he was revived only minutes earlier.  
“This reading is nonsensical,” he declares after several long heartbeats.

“You’re telling me,” says the doctor. “There is something added to your DNA that sticks out like a damn hangnail. I don’t know how you’re even alive and breathing, but whatever the hell it is, and even if it wasn’t designed to turn you into a killing machine, this kind of alteration would drive anyone to madness.”

Khan returns to his spot in front of the glass and Kirk. “And now you have decided that I would be a more useful tool to you if you were to remove that... hangnail... and have me be your docile dog to heel by your feet,” he concludes.

“We are offering you an opportunity,” Kirk counters. “If the procedure suggested by Doctor McCoy is successful, and psychological as well as telepathic analyses confirm that you are no longer a time-bomb about to go off, you and your crew could be granted a new life on a colony of your own.”

Khan huffs. “Exile, once more, Captain?”

Kirk shifts. “Not indefinitely, of course. At least not for your crew. Long enough to ensure that you are capable of upholding a society and pose no danger to yourselves and others.”

Khan raises an eyebrow. “My crew but not me.” He is hardly surprised. If there was a future for him that does not include a maximum security prison, he would be.

“A Federation court,” Kirk mentions the Federation haltingly, as if he knows exactly how little faith in it Khan has reason to have, “has ruled that any actions committed by your crew in times of war are by now time-barred. Your actions, on the other hand – however genetically coerced and manipulated they may have been – are not.”

“Indeed.” Khan is amused again. Bureaucracy.

Kirk ignores his comment. “Since your whole crew is too dangerous to be revived as they are, you would have to sign an agreement for them to undergo treatment if yours goes well.” Another point Kirk appears less than thrilled about.

“I am to make a decision for seventy-two individuals who cannot speak for themselves?” The tone of Khan’s voice lets Kirk and the doctor know quite clearly what he thinks of such suggestions.

Kirk’s jaw sets. “That is the standing offer. And according to your results, another court ruling will decide what will happen to you.”

“And what are the potential results of such a court ruling?” Khan asks, cynically. He has been offered _’options’_ before. This doesn’t sound very different from what Admiral Marcus has promised him, with the exception of him undergoing whatever treatment this Doctor McCoy has fabricated.

“Always assuming that you will come out at the other end as a human being capable of rehabilitation, it would mean therapy and continuous assessment, and then, ideally, house-arrest on that new colony selected for you and your crew, until such a point where it is decided that your movements no longer need to be restricted.”

Khan tilts his head. “And if your _miraculous_ cure fails?”

Kirk firmly holds Khan’s cold gaze. “Maximum security prison with no chance of ever coming out. You – and your crew – are one risk the Federation is unwilling to take. It took every ounce of convincing I possess to even get you this far.”

Khan’s eyebrows rise. “Is that so. Why would you of all people insist upon offering me a... chance?” He makes _’chance’_ sound more like a joke than an opportunity, but Kirk takes it, anyway. 

“Carol Marcus approached me.” Kirk smiles a dangerous, edgy smile. “You know. The woman whose knee you broke and whose father’s skull you crushed in front of?”

“I am aware of her identity.”

“She was the one who searched for and found your files and then brought them to my attention.” He takes a deep breath and releases it in a huff. “I... am a strong believer of every person being allowed to decide his or her own destiny. You never got that chance. I am willing to offer you at least the possibility of finding out if it was your own free will that made you do the things you did.”

Khan blinks, calmly. “And if I refuse treatment?”

“You’ll be frozen, again. You are just going to have to hope that any future generations who are forced to deal with you give you yet _another_ chance and don’t just kill you where you lie.”

Khan tilts his head, appreciative of Kirk’s more ruthless side. “You do not leave me with much of a choice, Captain.”

“Neither do you.”

Khan nods his head, once, in acknowledgement. “Granted.”

Kirk’s breathing visibly speeds up. “So you agree to the treatment?”

“Who guarantees me that this one alteration of my DNA is all you will remove? Who is to say that you do not cripple my genetic design to the point that I am no longer myself? That I am no longer in possession of my mind and body because you fear my superiority?”

“ _I_ guarantee it,” Kirk says, firmly. “I am not afraid of mentally and physically superior beings.”

Khan’s lips quirks. “I am almost tempted to believe you, given what I have learned about you. But your _Federation_ might not be quite as willing to take risks as you are.”

“That’s why I am in charge of this project.” He nods. “People I trust are on it and will continue to supervise it.” His eyes briefly dart to the side, his thoughts clearly with a specific person who is not present.

Khan has the distinct feeling that Kirk would defy orders to keep control over this... project. Interesting. He is not quite certain what would drive a person to take this kind of risk, merely because it is what they perceive to be the _’right thing’_ , should it even exist.

“You have my word,” Kirk adds.

“I believe you,” Khan says. He has no illusions whatsoever as far as the success of this endeavour is concerned. There is no doubt in his mind that his very nature is impossible to remove from his core.  
However... he has faith in his own ability to make people believe that it has succeeded...

“I... accept your terms,” is what Khan finally says.

Kirk grins in a way that suggests that he knows what Khan is thinking and disagrees, regardless.  
“A wise choice, Mister Singh.”

McCoy manipulates his device, and surveillance and medical equipment is being revealed in compartments of Khan’s cell wall.  
“Lie down on the bed, again, please,” the doctor says.

Apprehensive of the apparatuses that are mostly unknown to him – having been kept in a military and not a medical environment all his life – Khan nonetheless does as he is asked.  
The lights above him brighten and lose some of their edge.

McCoy walks up to the glass. “The procedure will take about two weeks,” he explains, probably to assess Khan’s reactions until he loses consciousness. “When you wake, you will feel weakened and disoriented, but given your extraordinary physical abilities, that shouldn’t last long.”

“I understand,” Khan says, mostly to see if he is still in control of his mental faculties and his vocal cords.

“Your body will go through quite the ordeal, so it won’t be like waking from cryo-stasis or natural sleep. You will probably require a lot of rest at first.”

McCoy’s voice has a buzzing undertone to it, as if the sound-waves are physically crawling under Khan’s skin... He wants to turn his head... but forgets...

“Sleep well, Mister Singh.” A soft, low roar more than a voice.

Kirk is the last thing Khan hears.

 


	2. It's a Start

McCoy watches their prisoner’s vitals, carefully. Finally, he waves the medical staff closer.  
“Prep him for surgery.”

Kirk raises an eyebrow. “You sure he’s out?”

McCoy returns the look. “He was playing possum for over five minutes before he opened his eyes, earlier.” He grins at Kirk’s surprise. “He can put on a good show, but he’s definitely out, now.”

Kirk grins a bit, then watches the medical team inside the cell putting up the needed machinery and breathes deeply. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

McCoy watches the readings and peeks at Kirk, sideways. “You are, but even the right thing can blow up in your face.” He takes the sting out of his words with another smirk.

Kirk huffs a small laugh, keeping his eyes on Khan.

“Jim...” McCoy starts, “what did you mean, earlier, when...”

They’re being interrupted by a visibly shaken elderly woman leaving the mirrored observatory behind them and walking closer.

“Doctor Stadi?” McCoy asks, and the woman waves off an attempt by Kirk to steady her.

She directs dark eyes at McCoy. “The hatred within this man...” her eyes flicker to the side but don’t rest with Khan for more than the fraction of a second, as if she simply can’t bear the sight of him, “... is like nothing I’ve ever encountered, before.”

Kirk licks his lips. “So you think you’d be able to see through a deception, should he attempt one?”

She nods. “Yes. He is adept at controlling his features, but he has no telepathic means to shield his emotions.”

Well, there is that, at least. It’s why they even requested a Betazoid to oversee the negotiations, in the first place. A point of reference...  
“Do you think there’s even a chance for success?” Kirk can’t help but add.

The doctor hesitates. “He has reason, however misdirected. And there is confusion...” She trails off, as if the confusion she could feel within him was hard to grasp for her, too. “I cannot begin to fathom what the procedure could or could not do. But I will inform you about the results I find once it is completed.”  
With that, she nods, once, and leaves, a younger woman immediately taking her arm by the door.

Kirk looks after her for a long moment after the door has closed.

“Well,” McCoy says, “we won’t know unless we try.”

“Yeah...” He doesn’t sound as convinced as before, but once he turns and sees the sleeping man whom he was talking to only minutes earlier, his resolves strengthens. “Right.”

McCoy leans in and lowers his voice. “What did you mean, earlier, when you said you would have people on this you could trust? Didn’t sound like you were talking about me, but... the...” he waves an arm, “... the colony, should it even come to that.”

Kirk nods. “Yeah. I was.” He looks at McCoy. “I need someone on that project who would, uh... ignore regulations and come to me first when necessary.”

McCoy straightens and clears his throat. “Right. I didn’t hear anything, then.”

Kirk grins at him. “He has no reason to trust the Federation or Starfleet, and if I’m gonna give someone my word that I won’t let ‘em down, I need to make sure I can keep it. Even when... _especially when_... I won’t be around for five years.”

“Good.” McCoy smiles, not having expected any different. “Now get the hell out of here. I got work to do and you a ship and crew to prep.” The Enterprise is, after all, scheduled for departure in less than two months.

Kirk clasps McCoy’s arm. “Thanks, Bones.”

“Like I said. We’re doing the right thing and all that...”

“Alright, I’ll see you in two weeks. Keep me updated.”

“Will do,” McCoy agrees and opens the cell to enter. “Initiate primary filtering procedure.”

Kirk remains for a moment longer, watches the glass close behind McCoy and the machinery come to life.  
After one last look at the restful face on the bed, he breathes out. “Man, I really hope you’re worth it.”

When walking out, the sound of soft jazz music following him, he is certain that, even if the man might not be worth it, the cause is. Would be kinda nice if the man turned out to be worth it, too, though...

***

It’s actually sixteen days before Kirk returns to the facility, finding McCoy in the very same spot, next to the same console, in front of the same cell, a cell containing a man who... looks exactly the same as he has the last time Kirk has seen him. _Everything_ looks the same, except for the bars on the sides of Khan’s bed, presumably to keep him from falling out.

Kirk licks his lips and approaches his friend. “Bones!” he greets him with more enthusiasm than he feels. Over the past two weeks, the questions and doubts had a lot of time to fester and build up an annoying niggle in the back of his head. 

McCoy at least looks pleased and smirks at him. “Rough night?”

Kirk scowls at him, annoyed. “How come you look as fresh as a daisy? You’re the one who had to operate on him.”

“Well...” he draws out the word, audibly enjoying the syllable. “He is a terribly agreeable patient. Doesn’t whine, doesn’t complain about hypo sprays, is always there on time when I need to examine him...”

Kirk rolls his eyes. “He’s out cold!”

McCoy considers this and adds, “Doesn’t develop yet another allergy while being out cold,” to his list.

Kirk snorts a laugh. “Okay, alright.” He clears his throat. “It went well, then.”

This time it's McCoy who rolls his eyes. “You already know it went well. Now it’s all about waking him up, again.”

A shiver runs through Kirk, and about two dozen _’What if?’_ questions stampede through his mind, but since he has already entertained all of those (and probably four times as many on top of them) in the past sixteen days, he dismisses them. The security guards are in place, and he knows that Doctor Stadi is in the observatory, once more, watching the proceedings. Nothing to worry about. 

“Right, then. Let’s go.” He straightens and steps up to the glass, ending up in the same position he’s occupied the last time.  
When soft jazz music fills the room along with the humming of the machines that do whatever the hell it is they’re doing to wake a patient, he looks over his shoulder.  
“Jazz, again, Bones? Didn’t really help, last time.”

“It helps me!” McCoy protests. “And who’s to say it didn’t help, last time? He agreed, didn’t he?”

Kirk has to give him that with a shrug and a half-nod.

“Besides,” McCoy smirks, “you’ll like the reference when you get there.” He doesn’t elaborate, so Kirk returns to watching Khan who eventually breathes in deeply and slightly moves his head.

Not about to pretend to not be awake, this time, then...

The blue eyes open, unfocused, and Kirk only realises that he’s been holding his breath when they flicker towards him and make him involuntarily gasp, quietly.  
“Welcome back.”

Khan lethargically blinks. “Kirk.” A little more than a whisper, not quite a rasp.

Kirk grins. Well. The memory seems to be intact. When Khan squeezes his eyes closed and frowns to dissipate the fog still clouding his mind, Kirk finally gets the song reference McCoy has mentioned.  
He looks over his shoulder and raises an amused eyebrow.

McCoy just smirks back for a second, before he returns to keeping his eyes firmly on the monitor.

Khan is once more looking at Kirk. “The procedure?” The voice is steadier, already, though still not nearly as forceful as Kirk knows it can get.

“Successful.”

Khan looks confused and lifts an uncoordinated hand to his face where it mostly just falls, uselessly, before he manages to attempt something resembling rubbing his forehead.

“Take it easy...” Kirk cautions when Khan’s movements become more frantic.

Khan rolls onto his side, the bars keeping him on the bed as intended. His eyes dart around, looking for something invisible, something he doesn’t know. Something, _anything_ , familiar.

“Dammit,” McCoy grumbles and steps up to the glass. “Mister Singh!” he says, using his most authoritative medical officer’s voice. “Mister Singh, I need you to calm down. You are working yourself into a panic attack, and I’d really rather not sedate you, again, just now.”

Khan has managed to push himself up sideways on one arm. “Weak...”

“No. You’re not,” McCoy assures him, remaining calm and assertive. “Your musculature is perfectly fine and just as ridiculously overdeveloped as it was, before. It’s just your motor function that needs to come back online. You were out for two weeks, and your body has to adapt to the changes.”

Khan lowers himself again but remains lying on his side. “I... am not sure if this has worked,” he says, and only a moment later appears as if he doesn’t know why he said that (or if he even should have).

Kirk seems to realise the same thing and smiles a curious little smile. “I’d say that shows that _something_ has worked, wouldn’t you?”

Khan holds Kirk’s look before the restless confusion makes his eyes roam, again. He starts another attempt to prop himself up on his arm, and while it requires a lot of effort, he is steadier.  
“Results? What are the results? I need... I don’t understand.”

“Bones?”

“Yeah, hold on.” He returns to his console now that Khan seemingly has regained at least some of his control. “Can you reach the monitor at the head of your bed? It should swing around to the side.”

Khan’s left arm first reaches past the monitor, but he gets it with the second attempt and pulls it closer.

McCoy enters a few commands into his own console. “You should see the progression of your DNA during the procedure, now.”

Khan studies the information, now and is again blinking and shaking his head to clear it. “This is not... not possible,” he finally says, staring at his readings, as if he could make them uncover their hidden meaning if only he dared them to.

McCoy checks what Khan is reading on his screen. “Actually, the procedure wasn’t as difficult as we’d feared. It was...”

“No,” Khan interrupts him, some of his anger cutting through the confusion. “The original reading. How is that possible? It is _not possible_!”

Kirk raises his eyebrows in surprise. “That only occurs to you, now?”

Khan shoots him a dark look, and Kirk grins, holding up his hands.

McCoy, not happy with his patient’s blood pressure, frowns at Kirk. “Jim, shut up. You’re not helping.” Ignoring Kirk’s insulted look, he focuses on Khan.  
“We came to the conclusion that your original DNA must have been pretty normal. Enhanced, but normal.” He pauses and licks his lips, and then just makes himself finish. “The one part we removed appears to have been... added during adolescence.”

Kirk is no doctor, but at that, he openly stares at McCoy.

“Yeah...” McCoy nods at him. “I have no idea how they did that three hundred years ago, either.” He looks at Khan. “That made the procedure easier, though it took a bit longer than expected, because the results we kept getting were, as you say, not possible.”

Khan’s eyes darken some more, and he pushes himself into a sitting position with both hands. “This...” he looks down at his body, still confused that there are no visible changes, “... was _done_ to me? To a living, sentient, _thinking_ human being? A _child_?!”

“That is the conclusion we had to come to, yes.”

Kirk looks slightly worried at the anger in their prisoner. It doesn’t quite feel like it used to, but since McCoy has been worried about having to sedate their patient... “Bones?”

McCoy has one eye on the readings. “He’s fine.”

“ _Fine_?!” His arms tremble; the effort now clearly draining him of what little energy he has at his disposal, and he lowers himself onto his elbows. “I am... a _lab rat_. Nothing but a _remote controlled lab rat_ , created to be used and commanded by someone who _has been dead for three hundred years_!” He yells the last part and then crumbles onto the bed, again.

Kirk lays a hand on the glass. “That’s why we’re all here,” he says, calmly, honestly.

Khan is on the verge of passing out, and he remains conscious by sheer force of will. “Kirk... you must. You must perform the procedure on my crew. I will sign it. Whatever is necessary. Please.”

Kirk just nods. “We will. Right now, you’re in no mental state to sign for so much as a car lease. Let your mind rest and heal. You have all the time in the world.”

Khan only hears fragments of what Kirk is saying. “You must.”

“I will. You have my word.”

Khan hears that. All of it. Then his body gives in to the fatigue.

Kirk turns away from the glass. “Is he okay?”

McCoy nods, absently, as he darkens the light inside the cell and the glass and mutes the sound that could get in from the outside. “Out like a light. We’ll just let him sleep it off and then give him something to eat when he wakes up the next time.”

“He already seemed pretty coordinated...” Kirk remarks.

“Yeah. Damn DNA is as resilient as it’s always been.” He raises an eyebrow at Kirk. “Could still cause trouble, you know.”

Kirk gives a half-grin, then he looks at the cell again, seeing mostly himself in the glass, now that it’s dark inside. “Yeah, well. I wasn’t going to cripple who he is.”

McCoy’s expression softens. “No.” Sometimes, the difference between right and wrong is actually as clear as all that...  
He clears his throat. “Physically, he’s recovering, fast. Mentally...” He leaves the sentence hanging.

A voice from behind them finishes it for him. “His mental health will take longer to restore itself, if it has ever existed in the first place,” Doctor Stadi confirms. Unlike the last time, she walks up to the glass, watching the sleeping figure in the dark.

Kirk forces down the burst of excitement. “You’re saying... it’s possible?”

“He is... immeasurably angry and confused.”

“Yeah,” Kirk bursts out. “I think I would be, too. Not, you know...” he interrupts his own rush of words, “... not to the point he went, but. You know.”

The Betazoid doctor smiles at Kirk benignly. “Trust me, Captain, I have never met anyone who went to the point he was at.”

“Was?” Kirk’s eyes widen, and he is now pretty sure that his plan was a good one. Right? Please…

“He remembers that point. He even understands it. But it also confuses him incredibly, because, as far as I can tell, he no longer appears to be _at_ that point.”

Kirk releases a breath. “Good. That’s...”

“A start,” she interrupts him, sternly.

Kirk grins. “A start is pretty good.”

*

When Kirk returns the next morning, he is being told by a security officer that Khan had woken again in the evening, eating and then walking up and down like a trapped tiger for maybe half an hour before eventually falling asleep, again. The metaphor of the tiger doesn’t leave him and will stay in the back of his mind for a long time to come.

He reaches the cell and finds McCoy in a discussion with Doctor Stadi.

“Ah, Jim, good,” McCoy greets him and waves a distracted hand at the glass of Khan’s cell. “Don’t worry, he can’t hear us.”

Kirk shakes hands with Doctor Stadi… “Doctor.”

“Captain.”

… And then he lets his curiosity get the better of him and wants to see what their prisoner-slash-patient is up to.  
The bed has been moved to the side and into the far left corner to make room. Khan is standing on one leg, the other pointing straight upwards, one hand directing it while the other is doing… some thing or other that appears to be…

“He requested not to be disturbed,” McCoy grumbles, sounding in equal amounts grumpily annoyed at a prisoner making requests of any kind in the first place and being pleased with what said prisoner has chosen to spend his time with, “for that yoga or kata or whatever the hell that thing he’s doing even is.”

Kirk watches Khan’s routine for a bit longer (noticing that he’s been given more suitable clothing), before raising an eyebrow at McCoy, knowing that grumpy sound well enough to recognise it for what it is. And, yep, McCoy’s expression shows that he’s much more pleased than annoyed. Kirk smirks at him.

McCoy nods at the ever-present console next to him. “His vitals are excellent, right now. So his body is more than just the result of genetic engineering, and he knows how to maintain it.” Then he abruptly ignores the readings and faces Kirk fully, crossing his arms.  
“Knowing you, you’ve probably been eating nothing but junk food while mostly ignoring your recommended fitness regime ever since we set foot on Earth.”

“No, _Doctor_ McCoy, I have actually been running a lot, since there’s a sun and a blue sky and fresh air, and I’ve been doing regular workouts. I admit to neglecting it _somewhat_ , recently, due to the heavy workload of preparing the very first five-year mission ever and trying to save seventy-three people who may or may not deserve it from being stored in a fridge forever.”

McCoy doesn’t appear very impressed by that. “Once we’re on the Enterprise, I’ll get you back into shape.”

A bleep announces that Khan has apparently finished his exercises and asked for the sound connection to be restored, again, and McCoy does so with a quick command.

“Captain,” Khan greets him, and Kirk isn’t quite sure what to make of the calm voice.

“Good morning. Your motor control appears to be back online…”

Khan tilts his head. “I believe that the quicker I recover, the sooner you people will let me sign the agreement for the necessary treatment of my crew.”

McCoy huffs. “I told you. Not before tomorrow. Two days of recovery time is the absolute minimum.”

Khan’s lips tighten, and he averts his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” Kirk says. “It’s one more day. They’ve been asleep for three hundred years, they won’t know the difference.”

Khan scowls at him. “But I will.”

Kirk’s sympathy will only go so far. “Yeah, well, suck it up.” Then he remembers that that pissing off the prisoner doesn’t get him anywhere, either. “You’ve come so far, you can deal with another day. Just… calm down. Do some more yoga or meditate or whatever.”

“Be… _docile_.” The accusing tone is hard to miss.

“Cooperative,” Kirk contradicts.

“I _am_!”

Kirk takes that with a nod and turns to Doctor Stadi who is sitting to the side. “Doctor?”

“He is,” she confirms. “He has a goal, and he has no intention of harming anyone on his way there, at this point.”

Khan straightens, smug at having been proven right.

“However,” she adds, “he is also very protective. Should he be betrayed, again, I doubt any amount of genetic correction would keep him under control.”

Khan stares at her, darkly. “Do I have reason to expect betrayal?”

She holds his stare. “Captain Kirk has been given this program, and it will remain with him, as long as regulations are upheld. Regulations such as the two day waiting period and you actively partaking in psychological counselling.” Her lip twitches. “And Kirk will not betray you. He will stop you if you force his hand, but he will stand by you if you simply take it.”

Kirk frowns at her. “Have you been reading me?”

“Apologies, Captain. But you project loyalty quite loudly.” She smiles, unapologetically.

Khan interrupts them, impatiently. “The Captain’s unwavering loyalty to his people and the causes he deems worthy of pursuing comes as no surprise to me. It was the only reason I accepted his offer.”

Kirk, for his part, certainly _is_ surprised and blinks at him. “You can’t possibly know me well enough to put your life and the lives of your crew members into my hands.”

Khan smirks slowly, some of his confidence returning and manifesting as amusement.

Kirk puts his hands on his hips. “Oh, fine, so you’re not half bad at reading people. Actually,” he adds, “you know what? You probably shouldn’t remind me of that.”

The smile remains as Khan answers. “I merely intended to say that, had someone else – _anyone_ else – of your… _Starfleet_ ,” the name still makes his lips curl, “made me the same offer, I would have taken my chances with the cryo-stasis.”

Kirk immediately takes pride in what he considers a serious compliment, but he is also aware of the other man’s (impressive) record at manipulating people into doing what he wants (without him having to tell them what it even is that he wants).

“You could have handed over this project of yours, and you decided not to. Clearly, you have read me as well as I have read you…” The little smirk is back.

Kirk can’t help it. He smirks back. “Yeah, well. Don’t fuck it up.” And, just to make sure, again, he turns towards Doctor Stadi.

She takes his meaning and answers the unspoken question. “His dominant emotions and thoughts at this point are anger, confusion, displacement and ambition. None of the ambitions are currently destructive, but they lack direction. The anger is not directed at any specific person or institution, either, surprisingly,” she adds the last word with no small amount of irony, “but if he does not see a possible future for himself and his people, soon, I predict that both anger and ambition could take a turn for the worse, once more.”

Khan just stares at her, trying to align the mirror she is holding up of what is supposedly inside of him with what he is consciously aware of. He appears to consider her words, which McCoy (who is very carefully watching both him and his readings) finds somewhat reassuring.

Kirk nods. “Finding something was always the plan, in case the surgery worked. Or we could have just left him where he was.” He looks at Khan who returns his look, both of them searching.

“Then let us hope that your expectations in me are not disappointed.” There is an edge to Khan’s voice, reminiscent of their very first conversation through a solid glass wall, but some of the tension is lacking.

Kirk narrows his eyes. “Not quite buying your attitude, Mister Singh.” He can’t put his finger on it, but something is noticeably different about Khan. He is still strong, smart and dangerous, but he stands a little less straight, moves a little less controlled, his eyes are just a bit wider… The something from before, the something that almost palpably _boiled_ just under the man’s skin, waiting to erupt; the thing that was usually beaten into submission, only to burst to the surface in blinding rage when it would be needed… whatever that was, Kirk can’t detect it anymore, and now he’s not sure who he has in front of him.

Khan tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Kirk refuses to keep the ball and returns it right away. “Do _you_ think my expectations might be disappointed?”

At that, Khan’s stony façade crumbles – barely more than a slight slackening of facial muscles, but still there for anyone who looked hard enough – and he averts his eyes.

“Do you?” Kirk presses.

Khan’s eyes dart back to Kirk, glowering. “I am so terribly sorry to dampen your optimism,” Khan says, angrily and sarcastically, “but I’m afraid I simply do not know.”  
He _is_ angry. Angry and cornered. And he doesn’t have the security of knowing what his purpose is, doesn’t even know if he has a future. He has… something to lose. Not just his family, but he has something to lose he doesn’t know yet.  
To Khan’s further confusion, Kirk smiles, and it appears genuine.

Kirk looks at Doctor Stadi in askance.

“A start, yes,” she answers his look.

“Anyway,” Kirk says, waving off Khan’s (justified) misgivings, “you don’t have the time to worry about that. You don’t know who you are, so, you can just do something in the meantime until you figure it out with the help of Doctor Stadi, here.” He consciously makes it sound like nothing but a walk in the park. A dare. What the hell, right? It usually works on him too. “I’ve always been a fan of learning by doing.”

Khan stares at him, baffled. “I think you quite possibly have lost your mind.”

Kirk grins. “Bones!”

McCoy rolls his eyes and addresses Khan. “We’d like you to oversee the procedures on your crew via the screen in your cell. Give us insight into their medical history if you remember it, warn us if you notice something we missed. That kinda thing. Might as well make use of a different perspective.”

Khan processes that for a few seconds. “May I review the complete records of my procedure, then?”

McCoy shrugs, uncomfortable. “Yeah. I s’pose you can’t do much damage with that knowledge, and it would better the chances of your crew.”

Khan nods, absently, his thoughts already with his people. “I would be of more use if I could move within the facility and assist in individual cases, should there be complications…”

“Are you nuts?!” McCoy bursts out. “We can’t let you out of your cell! Even in the best case scenario, you’d be lucky if you are moved to a colony by the time the Enterprise leaves.”

Khan blinks, genuinely startled by the reaction. “Well, then, implant a back brace,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious choice and McCoy should have realised it on his own.

“A _back brace_?!” McCoy all but shrieks. “Good god, man! That’s _medieval_!”

Kirk frowns. “What the hell is a back brace?”

McCoy ignores him. “I’m not going to butcher my way into your back to squash in a device that will _sever your spinal cord_ if you move too far away from whoever has the controller!”

Khan still doesn’t seem to understand. “The point of the device is that I do not go where I am not allowed, which I have no intention of doing. And even in the rare case of a malfunction, the damage would hardly be irreparable today.”

McCoy stares at him some more, then turns his body facing Kirk, standing firm and looking very much as if all of this was Kirk’s damn fault, anyway. “This man is a lunatic!” He points at Khan. “I’m a doctor, not a torturer! I absolutely _refuse_ to do _anything_ of that kind, and…”

“ _I_ was the one who suggested it!” Khan protests, finally following McCoy’s unfamiliar reasoning. “The procedure performed on my DNA has been ludicrously complex, and I do not want to risk it having been a stroke of luck and then be locked in my cell when I could save my people instead! Not if the only reason for it is that you feel that your morals are being corrupted, Doctor!”

Kirk lays a steadying hand on McCoy’s shoulder, before the man can return to ranting, endlessly. Though he of course knows that Bones would have ample reason.  
“How do you even know about back braces?” he asks Khan, now having been reminded of them (graphically) by McCoy. “They’ve been outlawed for over a century, and they were after your time.” He blinks and frowns. “Your… _first_ time. Not this one.”

Khan rolls his eyes at Kirk’s antics. “Marcus, of course. He offered the back brace in exchange for more freedom.” He smirks, slightly. “I… convinced him that it would be counterproductive.”

Kirk snorts, and McCoy stares with a slack jaw, clearly just having lowered his already low opinion of the late admiral.

“I expected it to be taken as an act of faith if I offered it now,” Khan adds. “It appears I was mistaken.”

McCoy rubs his face and catches Stadi’s eyes. “He’s sincere, right now, right?”

Stadi nods, but otherwise remains sitting silently to the side, only observing.

Incredulous, Khan steps closer to the glass. “I want to be able to do something to help my people, and I cannot be let out of this cell as the situations stands. It is only logical!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” McCoy complains, throwing up his hands, pacing away a few steps.

Kirk has to bite his lip to hold back a snicker, but a small snort escapes, nonetheless.

“Yeah, you’re laughing, now,” McCoy tells him. “Just wait until Spock finds out about this little Moonraker project of yours and what exactly it entails.”

Khan tilts his head at Kirk. “You did not inform your first officer of your plans?”

“This might not be on public record because it was an experimental and unprecedented ruling and not a trial, but he certainly has the clearance level to access the information, should he wish to.”

Khan smirks, amused. “You did not tell him.”

“Okay, alright, already! No, I didn’t! He’s on New Vulcan and busy.” Then he turns to frown at McCoy. “And did you seriously just call it the _Moonraker_ project?”

McCoy grins. “Some of the people here started calling it that, and it kind of stuck.”

Kirk narrows his eyes. “I bet I know who started it...”

McCoy shrugs, carelessly. “Good a name as any, and it beats reciting the registration number of the court ruling.”

Kirk is about to say something else, but eventually just explosively releases his breath, shaking his head. “Whatever.” It sounds kinda neat, he has to admit.  
Then his shoulders slump, and he looks at Khan. “Obviously I didn’t tell Spock because he would have tried to talk me out of it.”

“Might he have had a reason for that...?”

Kirk huffs, amused. “You bet. But he also would have been too emotionally compromised to make the decision.”

Khan considers that. “Granted.”

“Rest assured, had things been different, had it been the other way around, I highly doubt that you and I would be here, right now.”

“I understand.”

They look at each other for a long moment, then Kirk nods, once. “Sometimes I can’t really believe I’m doing this, as it is, but when I saw the report, I knew that I had to. This has nothing to do with Spock.”

Khan thinks about responding, but the talk about being emotionally compromised sparks his curiosity, and he instead asks a question. “The man you mentioned when you apprehended me on Qo’noS, Admiral Pike.”

Kirk tenses.

“You considered him family?”

Kirk straightens his back. “I did.”

Khan’s eyes lose focus as he remembers. “The people at that emergency session, they were in league with Admiral Marcus. They were the enemy,” he says, absently.

Kirk’s jaw sets, and he seriously considers interrupting him and simply walking out.

Khan’s eyes dart to Kirk. “I was your enemy, and you had my people. Never once did any of you even consider harming them to force my hand.” It’s not a question.

Both Kirk and McCoy stand tall. They don’t have to answer. They are proud of that assessment.

“I did not expect to find honour in your Starfleet.” Khan hesitates, searches for the right words. “I am sorry for your loss.”

Kirk can feel the old anger and hurt slowly surface, again. The same kind of rage that made him take Marcus’ order without question, until Spock _made_ him question it. And Spock is not here...  
“What...” He squeezes his eyes closed for a moment, bites and licks his lips and then clears his throat. “Is that supposed to be an apology?”

Khan looks sideways at Doctor Stadi, who nods. He supposes that being truthful is always the better course of action with Kirk, now more than ever.  
“Did he deserve your regard?” is what he finally asks instead of answering right away.

Kirk laughs, roughly and darkly. “You’re a right piece of work, you know that?”

“My question is genuine.”

Kirk steels his expression. “He was the only one to see something other than a lost cause in me. The only one to give me a chance.” His eyes water, but no tears fall. “Twice.”

Khan nods, slowly. “As you have me.”

Kirk’s eyes widen. That’s not what this is! He’s just trying to offer the man a fucking chance! Kirk’s never been as far gone as Khan...  
Realisation sets in after a moment, and he releases a deep breath. Nevertheless, Khan has a point. Some people would never know, unless someone gives them a chance.

“Starfleet is not what I was led to believe it was,” Khan muses, sounding uncertain. “I cannot apologise for attacking Section 31 and that emergency session. Were I to be given the same information and left in the belief that my capturers have killed my family, I would act no differently. An apology would be insincere. My offer of sympathy for your loss, however, is not.”

Kirk is a hair’s breadth away from saying thank you, when another thought interrupts that one. Might as well get that over with, as well, since they are on that particular track...  
“What about when you crashed a space ship into a city full of people?” To his own surprise, he doesn’t sound as accusatory as he has before. He sounds hard, but also curious to hear the answer.

Khan visibly flinches, then he blinks, rapidly and leans away from the glass until he has to take a step back to keep his balance.

McCoy frowns at the readings when Khan’s heart rate increases, and Doctor Stadi sits a bit straighter.

“I...” Khan stares through the glass into the distance, “... do not believe I can answer that question.”

Stadi stands and takes a step closer. “There is pain,” she states.

Khan flinches, again, some of his neatly combed back hair coming loose and falling into his face as he looks down. He breathes in sharply through his nose, but after a second, he manages to look at her, angrily. “You cannot _possibly_ comprehend-“

“And anger,” she continues, as if he hadn’t spoken. “You remember feeling that; you remember feeling it as recently as when you were first woken in this cell, before your procedure.”

Khan searches for the feelings, remembers their presence where now there is only a gaping hole, filled with things that are foreign to him. He frowns in frustration, staring at the floor.  
“It does not _fit_!” he yells, pressing the heels of his hands against his forehead.

Kirk shares a look with McCoy who signs him that Khan is fine, physically, at least, and he clears his throat.  
“You okay?”

Khan raises his head, gaping at Kirk, incredulously. “No, Captain, I am not _’okay’_.” He does not elaborate. Not because he doesn’t want to – on the contrary, he feels as if he is bursting with things to say that onerously insist on remaining unknown to him – but because he can’t.

Kirk breathes in and out a few times while reading the other man and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Eventually, he smiles a bit.  
“You know, you might actually turn out to be worth that second chance.”

Khan stares at him, uncertain about what it is that he has apparently done right and keeps silent.

Kirk studies him for a moment longer, then turns to McCoy.

“Oh, no!” McCoy protests, immediately. “I’m not doing it!”

“Keeping him in the cell indefinitely was never the idea. This would be a reasonable alternative for the time being and would give him a purpose.”

“ _Reasonable_?!”

Only then does Khan realise that the two men are talking about the back brace, once more, and he perks up, hopefully.

“You can’t ask me to do that!” McCoy adds.

“And exactly because you don’t want to do it, I’d only trust you with it.”

McCoy shakes his head, which is a bad move, because it also makes him notice Khan’s expression in the corner of his eyes, and he does a classic double take and ends up gaping at him.

“Doctor?” Khan inquires, exaggeratedly (almost comically) politely.

McCoy sets his jaw and points a finger at him. “If I do this, you will do _exactly_ what I tell you to do. You will get the necessary amount of rest, you will do the recommended exercises, and you will absolutely _not_ complain about _any_ of it!”

Khan, once more calm and collected, merely tilts his head. “Of course."

McCoy’s arm falls at his side, and he sighs. “Goddammit...”

 


	3. Stalemate

Kirk is too busy to visit for the next two days, but McCoy keeps him updated, so he knows that Khan has signed the necessary documentation for his crew to be given the same DNA treatment, and that things are being set up, accordingly. The team of medical specialists they are currently assembling and instructing is quite impressive, even according to McCoy.

Khan is also reportedly being a _’model patient’_ , following McCoy’s instructions for the healing process after the implantation of _’that goddamn illegal torture instrument’_ to the letter. Kirk would be suspicious at anyone being a model patient for Bones, but he knows that he himself would go through worse to save his crew than his friend’s tender treatment, so it’s not _that_ unlikely.

Khan hasn’t left his cell, yet, and both the counselling he is being forced through and the advising he is doing for the medics take place through solid glass. Though Doctor Stadi has taken to playing chess with her patient, keeping the board on her side of the glass and Khan moving his pieces through the manoeuvrable hole. At Kirk’s surprised look when being told, McCoy lets him know that it’s Doctor Stadi’s method to distract Khan from trying to distract her. Khan doesn’t give a fuck (Bones’ words) because it makes the sessions more efficient and more bearable (Khan’s words).

 

So, Kirk isn’t really surprised to find his prisoner playing chess when he returns in the evening of the third day. He is very surprised to see _who_ he is playing chess with.

He grins and walks up to the cell. “Doctor Marcus. You have a disturbing tendency to sneak into classified projects.”

She briefly looks up to grin back. “Captain,” she greets him and returns her attention to the board. “When I noticed a sudden influx of requests for medical personnel in this institution, I thought it better to pay a visit, especially after our last talk.”

“A talk I am very grateful for.” Kirk shakes his head, amused, not sure why he’s even surprised, anymore. “Mister Singh,” he greets the other person who is (probably) being (silently) grateful.

Khan moves one of his rooks, not looking up, but he’s clearly amused, as well. “Captain Kirk.”

“You still haven’t left the cell,” Kirk notes.

“Hm.” Khan watches Marcus make her next move. “The specialists who have arrived are somewhat apprehensive. It seemed advisable to let them acclimatise to the situation, first. I have no reason to leave this room before the procedures start.”

“No cabin fever?”

At that, Khan looks up, raising an eyebrow. “I assure you, Captain, it would take more than this,” he waves a hand around the cell, “to accomplish that.” Then he reaches through the hole and makes his move. “Check mate.”

Marcus leans back in her seat, crossing her arms and grinning, delighted. “Good game.”

Khan straightens in his seat, also looking quite satisfied, and not necessarily because of his win.

“I’m much better at poker,” Marcus adds and stands. “I’m afraid I don’t have the time to demand a rematch,” she says as Khan stands, as well. “Perhaps in five years.” She nods at Kirk. “Captain.”

Kirk returns the nod and only remembers why he really _should_ have been surprised to see her here when he watches her leave. Odd that he should only remember this now. He blinks and faces Khan, again, frowning.  
“How come you two are getting along, let alone playing a game together?”

Khan’s eyes follow her, too, before they come to rest on Kirk. “I asked her a similar question when she arrived, here...”

“And?” Kirk asks when no further clarification is forthcoming.

“She named scientific curiosity as her reason, but it was obvious that she...” he pauses and huffs, softly, “... feels some not insignificant amount of guilt for the actions of her father.”

Kirk’s eyebrows shoot up. “Uh-huh.” He doesn’t sound impressed. “You didn’t apologise for what you did to her father in front of her, did you?”

“No,” Khan states without hesitation, his eyes hard. “And she made quite clear that she did not require or expect one.” He blinks, once, and averts his eyes. “Though perhaps my... method... concerning her father could have profited from additional consideration.”

Kirk pulls a face. The death of Admiral Marcus is just another thing on a long list of things he could have gone without ever witnessing.

“I have come to the conclusion that death was too simple a way out for him,” he says, nonchalantly, very deliberately trying to not make it sound like he has second thoughts, but as if he truly thinks he might have been inappropriately lenient. “He should have stood trial. Then he would have lost everything including his freedom, he would have had to watch his projects crumble, and he would have lived to witness Starfleet once more becoming what it was before his destructive interference.”

Kirk doesn’t buy the blasé attitude for a second but plays along. “Delayed gratification,” he says, uncertain whether or not he approves of his own dark sense of humour, just then. “It has the added bonus of you not killing a person.” He sighs, remembering all too well what Marcus was ready to do without hesitation. The set-up, the manipulation, the readiness to send an entire crew to their death (and doing the killing himself if necessary) with a more than questionable motive.  
“No matter how far gone he was,” he adds.

“Hm,” Khan hums noncommittally. “You are no stranger to murderous rage, either, Kirk,” he cautions.

“I know.”

“Or your Commander Spock.”

Kirk pauses. “I know.” He holds Khan’s eyes with his. “And I want to know if you can get to a point where you understand why it’s right to not just give in to it.”

Khan doesn’t answer.

“Because if you can’t, if, even now, you... still feel like killing is in your hands because you have the power to do it... then you are no better than Admiral Marcus. Beyond redemption because your twisted reason makes you believe that you’re right, not because you’ve been programmed or manipulated.”

Khan hears Kirk’s words, understands and processes them.

“Because, you know...” he pauses, unsure how to voice his words so they would not be misunderstood. Then he just says it. “I _want_ to believe in you. I really do.”

Khan nods, slowly. “I know.”

Kirk breathes out and lets himself fall into the chair Carol Marcus has occupied, earlier. He grins slightly, so he’s not particularly bothered by not knowing why he wants to believe so badly.

Khan sits, slowly, as if to delay having to answer the unspoken question. “I would have thought it to be obvious.”

Kirk leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “Yeah?”

“You can see aspects of yourself in me. And, like every other person, you occasionally have self-doubts. You have convinced yourself that if I can succeed in growing beyond the genetics everyone sees in me, so can you.”

“Thanks, Doctor Freud,” Kirk says, sarcastically.

“I refuse to be compared to that quacksalver.”

Damn. Kirk has to laugh at that. He rubs his tired eyes.

Khan tilts his head. “Though perhaps you have already grown beyond what everyone thought you capable of, and now you merely resent seeing someone else in a situation out of which they cannot escape on their own.”

Kirk grins. “I could just open the door.” He rolls his eyes when he can see the two security officers immediately tense in the corner of his eye. “Calm down,” he tells them, “I’m not opening the damn door. Though I really don’t see the problem. It’s not like he could just leave.”

Khan is amused and completely unimpressed by the guards. “I wouldn’t leave my people even if I could,” he tells them (and Kirk).

“Bones is still pissed at me.”

Khan considers that, then his lips quirk. “He has been administering hypo sprays in a particularly vicious manner, both before and after the implant procedure...”

Kirk cracks up. “Good to know it’s not just me,” he manages to say before another burst of giggles escapes. Eventually, he stands.  
“Okay, that’s it. I’m exhausted, and you’ve got a busy two weeks ahead of you, too.” He stretches. “Remember to let Bones or me know if there’s an issue with something.”

Khan smiles as if amused at the notion that there would be an issue that he needs help with.

“I’m serious!” Kirk protests.

“I am aware. Good night, Captain.”

“Yeah. Good night, Mister Singh.”

*

Jim has very little time to spend much time thinking about Khan and his project over the next two weeks, but he makes an effort to every now and again pop in to see how everything is going and to... well... mark presence, he supposes. Let people know that this is _his_ project, and that there had better not be anyone going behind his back.

He watches the people around Khan slowly getting used to him moving among them and between the patients (not prisoners, despite them being treated in cells of two, so that there would be containment in the case of something going wrong).

Every time, Khan acknowledges Kirk’s presence with a nod before immediately returning to whatever task he is performing, but Kirk notices that Doctor Stadi was very likely correct in her assumption that a purpose would prove to be most formative for Khan. Kirk watches the other man smile more often and actually interact with people rather than just talk at them or accumulating information whenever he does listen.

Things are running smoothly. Of course, the moment he thinks that, only a day before the procedures are about to be completed, he gets the call.

*

Kirk groans, already half asleep, and reaches for his communicator. “Kirk here.”

“Jim...”

Kirk blinks the impending sleep out of his eyes. “Bones?”

“Jim...” McCoy repeats the name and pauses.

Oh, shit. Kirk is awake in an instant.

“Get down here, now.”

“ _Shit_! What happened?” He jumps out of bed and pulls on his clothes, laying the communicator on the bedside table so he’s able to talk and listen. McCoy again pauses, and the worst kinds of thoughts run through Kirk’s mind before the doctor finally answers.

“One of them didn’t make it.”

Kirk freezes. He’s about to swear again, but the word never passes his throat.

“Khan is... He’s not well.”

Kirk is pretty sure he can feel his heart beat in his throat. “What, like, a... relapse?” Dear god, please, don’t let it be that.

“No. I don’t think so. But he refuses to talk to Stadi, and she thought he might respond to you.”

Kirk pulls on his boots. “What’s he doing now?”

“Sitting in the corner on his bed, staring into nothing. He can’t hear me, but, knowing him, he probably knows I’m calling you.”

“On my way.”

 

Kirk enters the institute twenty minutes later, breathing hard and trying not to. Once he’s in the large hall with cells to his right and left, medical personnel now mostly monitoring, as the processes are nearly over, he slows down. His steps echo as he comes closer to the other end, where Bones is waiting for him on the left.

“Anything?” he asks into the silence of the night.

McCoy gestures with his hand towards the cell.

Kirk turns and looks. Khan is sitting on his bed in the corner, knees up against his chest, arms around the legs, his head resting on his knees. “Is he asleep?”

McCoy shakes his head. “No.” He doesn’t have to look at his console, anymore. “Unlikely that he’ll fall asleep, too. Not in the state he’s in.”

Kirk watches the unmoving figure for a moment longer. “Right, then,” he says, decisively. “He can’t hear us?”

“No…” McCoy frowns at Kirk’s sudden reaction and crosses his arms. “What are you up to?”

Kirk walks to the small table in front of the glass, packs the chess pieces into their box and grabs the board. “Open up.”

“Jim…” McCoy’s arms slowly unfold and fall to his sides.

The two ever-present security guards take a step closer.

“Oh, stand down,” Kirk orders them, annoyed. “The man’s been walking around outside this cell for two weeks. He’s tagged, and his damn back will blow up if he does something stupid.” He stares at them some more until they stop looking like they’ll bodily grab him and keep him from entering the cell, then he looks at McCoy.  
“Just open the cell and close it behind me, Bones.”

McCoy doesn’t really look worried, he looks more like he feels that someone ought to stick to some goddamn rules around here. Eventually, he smiles, sardonically. “He’s been doing well, you know.”

“I do know. I saw. That’s why I’m going in.”

McCoy enters the command to open the cell with no further discussion, and Kirk walks in, never once looking in the prisoner’s face.

Khan stares at the intruder but doesn’t say a word, not even when Kirk sets up the chess board on the bed in front of Khan’s feet, sitting on the foot end.

When Kirk is done placing the pieces on the board – the white ones in front of Khan to see if the man would start the game – he leans back against the wall, his legs dangling off the side and breathes out.

“I am not in the mood, Captain.”

“Yeah…” Kirk agrees. “Figured.”

They remain silent for several minutes, just breathing, neither really looking at anything.

“Bones…” Kirk calls out, startling almost himself. “Close the sound, again, please? I wanna talk to him in private.”

McCoy once more doesn’t protest, he just pulls a sour face.

Kirk waits for the tell-tale click. “Got confirmation for the assignment of that one person I trust. The one I want to send to the colony with you guys.”

Khan listens, but he doesn’t react.

“Anthropologist.” His lip quirks. “Among other things. Former Starfleet officer. She… hasn’t been active in a while but really wanted to go back for ages. I guess she’s been on Earth for so long, now, that she forgot her reasons why she doesn’t belong here.”

Khan looks at Kirk, but he still doesn’t say a word.

Kirk tilts his head sideways, watching Khan and raises a finger to point at him. “I swear, if you harm so much as a single hair on my mother’s head, I’m taking you down.”

At that, something akin to awareness returns to Khan’s eyes, and Kirk holds them with his own.

“Not playing?” Kirk asks, suddenly, mock-innocently and wide-eyed. “Well, then…” He turns the board around and makes the first move with a white pawn that is now in front of him. “Your move, Khan.”

Khan blinks, incredulous. “You are sending your mother with us?”

Kirk shrugs, uncomfortably, lowering his head. “You have every reason to be wary of Starfleet. She’s going with you so you can be sure that if anything goes wrong, if anyone tries to take over or go behind my back, she will contact me, first. And if everything goes well, she’ll be an asset to you and your people. I trust her.” He looks up, again. “And I trust you with her.” He sighs and returns to stare at his hands. “God knows why.”

When Khan after another short time leans forward to move his own (black) pawn, Kirk grins at him, as if he knew all along that an open game wouldn’t be left untouched.

Khan, knowing that he’s been had but unsure whether or not he minds, just says, “Your move… _James_.” He uses Kirk’s given name mostly to annoy him, of course. And, of course, Kirk’s only reaction is to be amused by it.

Kirk grins and makes his move. 

Once more, it’s quiet for a long, long time as they play, move after move, silently.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kirk says after what feels like an hour. Maybe it was.

“It was my responsibility!” Khan shoots back, immediately, the words having been in the back of his mind since the late afternoon when it became clear that, no matter what Khan, McCoy and that whole army of medical professionals of his did, there was nothing else to be done for his brother.  
Not his brother genetically, obviously (after all, they had been designed to repopulate the Earth, and blood relations would be detrimental to the genetic material in reproduction), but his brother in every sense that mattered. Resentment squeezes his throat, resentment and helplessness. Resentment not for having been created with enhanced physical capabilities – he still takes pride in being the best of every scientist who has worked on his conception, of which, so he now knows, genetically have been five, not merely two as there would have been in a natural selection – but resentment at the manipulation that was done to him when he should have been allowed to grow up to be his own person.  
And this now killed someone when he tried everything in his power to undo the damage. And he still doesn’t know why. Doesn’t know why it had to be his brother and not him.

Kirk nods. “Yeah.”

“Doing the… _’right thing’_ … is useless when it gets people killed.” He sounds hard, cold… and desperate for Kirk to contradict him.

Kirk points with his thumb over his shoulder. “Seventy-one people might beg to differ.”

Khan’s jaw sets. It’s so easy to say, he thinks, that one is supposed to be happy for what one has, instead of grieving for what one has lost. Of what use are those words in the face of loss?

“You made this decision for your people to help them, and you did everything you could to save him.”

Khan blindly stares through his black pieces and moves another one, listlessly. “Everything I could wasn’t enough.”

“No…” Kirk says, breathing out. “Sometimes it isn’t.”

Khan moves to sit cross-legged, props his elbows on his thighs and folds his fingers in front of his lips. He watches Kirk move his white piece. Waits, waits, knowing that Kirk understands.  
“How do you do it, James?” he asks, softly.

There are days when Kirk doesn’t know that, himself. And then he realises that he does, anyway. He leans his head against the wall and turns it to smile at Khan. “You do what you can. And you keep doing it.”

Khan makes his move, almost surprised at the situation that their chess pieces find themselves in. Almost.  
“It would appear we have moved ourselves into a stalemate.”

Kirk grins. “That we have.”

After that, talking is… well, not exactly easier, but they are talking.

Kirk finds the cell surprisingly calming. It’s just the two of them, and the outside world doesn’t matter. At least not for a little while.

 

They are accordingly startled when, suddenly, the sound comes on, again.

“Captain!”

They both look up, and Kirk feels vaguely guilty at the shocked and terrified expression on his first officer’s face, his Vulcan heritage hardly concealing his emotions in that moment. And he is not the only one betraying emotions.

Fortunately, Kirk is just too damn tired to react overtly, so he smiles at the two newcomers. “I’m rating both of you? Damn. I really scored, this time.”

Khan, having been privy to all the classified Nerada information due to his work for Section 31, isn’t particularly surprised at seeing two Spocks, but he is well aware that he now not only has to battle his own past, but the life of a Khan who never existed.  
He contemplates telling their visitors that Kirk is quite safe with him, but dismisses the thought. It would do no good.

Kirk nods sideways at Khan, keeping his eyes on the Spocks. “That bastard stalemated me,” he says, good-naturedly.

Spock the younger takes a step closer to the glass. “Please, Captain.”

Kirk sighs. Clearly, he will not be getting any sleep, soon. That doesn’t mean that Khan shouldn’t either. He puts away their chess pieces.  
“You should try to get some sleep.”

And though Khan is clearly calmer, he is still no closer to being sleepy.

Kirk anticipates his protests. “So let me give you a sedative. Just a mild one. Just to help you fall asleep if you let it.”

Khan remains uncertain.

“You really need your wits about you, tomorrow. Your people won’t benefit from an exhausted you when they wake up.”

Khan wants to add something about how he can go for a lot longer without sleep, but doesn’t voice it. Of course he _can_ go longer, but he also knows that his full potential is only reached when he is properly rested.  
Eventually, he nods.

Kirk smiles, takes the board and the pieces and walks over to the glass where he puts them on the table where Khan usually eats. (He pointedly ignores Spock’s disapproving look at him turning his back on Khan.)  
“Bones?”

McCoy has the sedative ready (has probably had it ready for hours) and hands it to Kirk through the hole he enlarges.  
“It is just a mild one,” McCoy confirms to Khan. “Take the rest you need. We won’t start without you tomorrow.” Also, McCoy himself looks like he could do with some sleep…

Khan has lain down when Kirk approaches him with the hypo spray and takes a hold of the man’s arm.  
“James.”

Kirk halts in his motion to apply the spray to Khan’s neck.

“Thank you.”

Kirk smiles, rests his other hand calmingly on Khan’s shoulder and administers the sedative. “You’re welcome.”  
He watches the man relax into sleep almost immediately and leaves the cell, signing McCoy to darken it and to close it for sound. He rubs his face, readying himself for a tirade in stereo.  
“Before you two get going, did you read up on the procedure and what has been done, here?”  
Kirk’s eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline at the sight of two visibly uncomfortable Vulcans.

His first officer answers, “We could only gain access to the basic information on the way here, but yes.”

Kirk knows that even the basics should have given the two the insight needed to realise that doing this is the only right thing.

“Captain, I strongly urge you to remain cautious,” says Spock’s older counterpart.

“We are!” Kirk protests. “Hell, one of our precautions isn’t even strictly legal.”

McCoy huffs. “It’s _il_ legal, Jim. And they only let you get away with it because this whole case is a precedence.”

Kirk waves him off. “Whatever. He’s glad he has it, and it calms everyone else because he can’t run off while he’s wearing it.” He faces his Spock again. “And there’s a Betazoid counselling him on top of that. He’s probably less of a risk than I am, right now,” he adds, grinning, weakly. When his Vulcan friends still look less than impressed, he sighs.  
“Scientists fucked him up three hundred years ago, and Marcus sealed the deal. We’re fixing it.”

His Spock takes a step closer. “I am not convinced that a human being can merely be _fixed_ , Captain. When I fought him, I initiated a mind meld in an attempt to distract him.” He has to pause to compose himself. “You cannot possibly imagine the kind of hatred that leaked from his mind.”

Kirk nods. “You can talk this over with Doctor Stadi, who has read him both before and after the procedure. She can confirm your assessment and will also tell you that the same hatred is not inside him, anymore.”

“Captain…”

“ _Or_ … you can meld with him, yourself. Not right now, obviously,” he quickly adds when he realises that this could be taken the wrong way. “And not without his consent.” He shrugs, one-sided. “I’m pretty sure he’ll let you if you ask him.”

Spock straightens, resolutely. “I will ask him in the morning,” he declares, making very clear that he has no intention of being in any way lenient.

His counterpart still looks troubled.

“Not good enough, Ambassador?” Kirk asks.

The Ambassador hesitates. “Jim, this is your decision to make and your path to take, but though my memory of what this man is capable of is troubling on its own, I cannot deny that knowing that he caused your death – however temporarily – affects me, as it affects your first officer.”

“Yeah, alright,” Kirk allows, scratching an eyebrow with his thumb. “But everything must already be different, right?” The Ambassador doesn’t reply, so he takes that as a confirmation. “And Khan said it himself that it was the Nerada’s appearance that caused Marcus to even look for him so they could use him.”

The Ambassador nods, slowly. “I agree that the situation is quite different. In my reality, we never made an attempt to modify Khan’s DNA or that of his crew to aid them. It is additionally possible that the manipulation and abuse at the hands of the late admiral might have set a counter-reaction in motion, one that would compel Khan to want to control his own destiny, even to a point where he might question his very creation and existence…” He pauses. “If it is truly a possibility, it would of course be desirable to pursue it.”

Kirk smiles at him, then looks at his own Spock. “You okay with that?”

Spock stands with his hands behind his back. “It would be… morally wrong to refuse Mister Singh that possibility if his actions have been proven to having been a medical issue multiplied by blackmail.”

Kirk releases the breath he’s been holding.

“But I still would have preferred had you consulted me beforehand.”

Kirk has the good grace to look vaguely chastised. “Yeah, sorry about that. I thought you might try to talk me out of it, and I really wanted to do it. _Me_ , not anyone else.”

“I do follow your reasoning, Captain…”

“There’s a first,” McCoy grouches.

“But may I request that you keep me informed of the proceedings within this project in the future, so that I may be in a position to advise you?”

Kirk smiles, gratefully. “Absolutely, Commander.”

“Well, good,” McCoy pipes up, again. “Now get the hell out, the lot of you. I need sleep,” he points at Khan, “he needs sleep,” he points at Kirk, menacingly, “and you _definitely_ need sleep.”

Spock moves to McCoy’s console. “I do not require rest at this point and would prefer to use the time to gather more information on the patient and the procedure until morning.”

McCoy lifts his hand in a _’whatever’_ gesture. “Suit yourself.”

Kirk faces the remaining Spock. “Ambassador?”

Again, he clearly hesitates, wanting to do something but unsure if he should. “I… believe I will return to my lodgings and meditate. I defer to your reliable instincts on this matter.” He nods and leaves with McCoy.

“Spock…” Kirk hates himself, but he has to ask.

Spock looks up from his reading material.

“I can leave you alone with him, right? You’re not going to do anything stupid?”

Spock tilts his head, and Kirk isn’t sure if that look indicates that Spock is insulted or contemplative.

“I mean, you almost killed him the last time you got your hands on him.”

“Captain,” Spock says, reasonably. “I was severely emotionally compromised at that time, which I am not now. In addition…” his expression appears to soften, just a bit, “… I would never betray your trust in such a manner.”

Kirk has to smile. “Thank you, Mister Spock.”

“You are quite welcome, Captain.”

*

Spock is nearly through the whole data by the time Khan stirs in his cell and the medical personnel is slowly filtering into the facility, and he has to admit that he is fascinated. Fascinated by the unethical genetic modifications in Khan’s childhood that have been unveiled, by the medical procedure to reverse it, and he is definitely fascinated by the diagnoses of Doctor Stadi.

When Khan sits in his bed, Spock turns on the light and opens communication.

“Good morning, Mister Singh.”

Khan nods, once. “Commander.” He stands and disappears into his adjoined bathroom.

Spock returns to his readings, leaving him be. It is his experience that humans are not always at their best, first thing in the morning. Also, their patience appears to be especially limited at that particular time of the day. Giving Khan the time for his morning routine would also give Khan the time to become more curious about Spock’s presence and intentions.

Indeed, Spock is correct. When Khan exits the bathroom, he is showered and dressed and approaches the glass.

Spock stands and walks closer, sitting in Stadi’s usual chair.

Khan sits in the chair facing him. “What can I do for you, Commander?”

“The Captain will visit the facility, later,” he says with the intention of giving Khan a reassuring opening to their conversation.

“I am aware,” Khan replies, impatiently.

No delay, then. Spock can appreciate that. “Mister Singh, I wish to inquire if you would permit me to perform a mind meld. It is a Vulcan practise to…”

“I know what a mind meld is, Commander. You have attempted one on me, before.”

Spock tilts his head in confirmation. “While you are correct, that is hardly comparable. At the time, the meld was intended to be forcefully invasive. A consensual meld is a different experience, entirely.”

Khan’s hands, lying on his thighs, clench almost imperceptively. “Have you ever performed a meld on your Captain?”

“I have not.” When Khan prepares to say something, Spock adds, “As I understand it, my counterpart has, however.”

“You would not hesitate to perform one on him?”

Spock considers that. “If there was a need or desire and he consented, I would not hesitate.”

“And I have your word, Commander, that this is to confirm my state of mind and not to alter it?”

Spock nods. “You have my word.”

Khan looks apprehensive. “I consent.” But apprehension has rarely held him back.

Spock pulls the spanner closer to open the hole in the glass. “Please, lean closer.”

Khan does as he’s asked.

“There is no need to be anxious. If you are being truthful, then I will report to the Captain what he already knows.”

A tension leaves Khan that he hadn’t been aware was there, and Spock reaches through the hole, putting his fingers on the psi points on Khan’s face.

“My mind to your mind…”

 

What Spock finds is like nothing he has ever seen before. He has expected many things. Deception only being one of them, as was the expectation to find a split mind, a mind that makes a distinction between before and after. A mind unable to comprehend or even clearly remember actions performed prior to the procedure.  
This is not what he finds. There is no deception. There is merely an open, inviting mind. And, curiously, this mind is not inviting him so readily because it is naturally open and inviting, but because Khan knows that this is what he needs to do, needs to allow. Needs it, so that Kirk will hear yet another confirmation, and this time from the one person closest to him.

There may be a clear distinction between before and after, but the mind is not split. Khan knows what he has done, knows it is his fault that countless people have died. There is some form of guilt and grief; though they are still as incomprehensible to Khan as the people who have died are countless.

Such confusion, but also determination to overcome it.

 

When finally the meld ends, Spock pulls back his hand, and the two men look at each other for a long time.

“You are not what I expected, Mister Singh,” Spock eventually lets him know.

“I have learned some unexpected things about you, as well, Commander Spock,” Khan returns the observation softly, some surprise tingeing his voice at the fact that the meld has opened two minds to each other, and not just his to Spock.

“I would like to offer to teach you Vulcan meditation techniques, or perhaps enquire if my counterpart would be willing to do it in my stead once the Enterprise leaves. I believe your exceptional control would be well suited for such methods, and it might be helpful to control some of the lingering anger and redirect it to constructive outlets.”

Khan blinks. “That is most generous of you.”

“I have understood my Captain’s motivation to stand so firmly behind this project from the start, despite my misgivings. I understand them even more so, now.”

Khan accepts that with a nod. “You must also understand that my anger is not without reason.”

“I do understand. All sentient beings experience anger at some point. I, myself, am not an exception,” he says the last part with a barely-there little quirk of lips.

Khan chuckles.

Steps behind Spock come to a halt, and McCoy gapes first at Spock and then at Khan. “Did he just make you laugh?” he demands to know of Khan while pointing an accusing finger at Spock.

“The Commander has a very dry sense of humour.”

McCoy incredulously moves to his console and opens the cell, not even asking what Spock’s opinion on his patient is, but instead merely taking the goddamn _laughter_ as answer enough.  
“And here I thought Vulcans didn’t have one.”

Khan smirks a bit and stands. “I’m sure James would disagree.”

McCoy pulls a face. “Please, don’t call him James. It freaks me the hell out.”

Khan thinks about why he appears to have found an immediate liking to using the name and shrugs. “It is…”

“What?” McCoy asks when Khan hesitates. “An inside joke?”

“An agreement,” Khan contradicts. Yes. This is what he has with Kirk. An agreement.

McCoy gives him a meaningful look (one that expresses an estimated twenty to thirty different shades of displeasure and that McCoy has mastered) and signs Khan to follow him with his arm.  
“You’re having breakfast with me. I want to go over the schedule with you before we start. You’ll be instructing the team with me.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Spock, uninvited, falls into step alongside them. “If you do not mind, Doctor McCoy, I would like to partake in that discussion, as I have several questions and some suggestions that I believe might offer a useful insight.”

“Can I stop you?” McCoy asks, sardonically.

“Unlikely.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Khan can’t help but grin. He understands their dynamic a bit better, now. He also understands what has drawn Kirk to these two men in particular. And he wonders if he himself has something similar, something that is worth being drawn to.

 


	4. Laying the Foundation

When Kirk wakes the next morning, the first thing he realises is that he’s overslept. Overslept quite a bit, actually. It’s noon.

He checks the computer to find out why the hell it didn’t wake him, then groans and rolls his eyes. The computer informs him that Doctor Leonard McCoy has overridden his settings for medical reasons.

He briefly reads the message Uhura has sent him (and that, due to McCoy’s override, hasn’t woken him, either) and heaves himself out of his bed, annoyed, heading for the shower. This is the first day where he’s managed to make sure that there would be no preparations for the Enterprise that need doing (at least not by him), because it’s kind of a big day for his other project.

As he’s getting dressed, he takes a mental note to have a serious discussion with McCoy about his tendency to ignore the chain of command in situations that are not life-threatening.

“Goddammit, Bones,” he grumbles one last time and leaves for the institute that is in the process of acquiring quite the addition of people to deal with.

 

“Captain,” Spock intercepts Kirk the moment he steps through the front door.

“Mister Spock,” Kirk returns the greeting but keeps walking. “You seem in good spirits.”

“Indeed, Captain. We are well within schedule.”

Kirk stops, pleasantly surprised. “We?”

“I did offer my assistance, did I not?”

Kirk smiles.

“Doctor McCoy has asked me to inform you that you are not to enter the lower levels before you have eaten.”

The smile drops like a wet rag.

“I can forward to you what the doctors have discovered about the one crewmember who has not survived, if that would propitiate you.”

Kirk narrows his eyes at Spock. “I would not find rampant mayhem in there if I were to walk in, now, would I?”

Spock looks amused. “You would not, Captain.”

Kirk sighs. Well, he _is_ kind of starving, by now. “Alright. Lead the way.” They only walk a minute or two on their way to the mess hall before Kirk of course needs more input.  
“So. Did you do the meld?”

“I did. It was very enlightening.”

Kirk smiles encouraged and encouragingly.

“The differences are striking, but he does not yet appear quite conscious of the changes, himself.”

“He’s trying, though.”

“He is,” Spock agrees. “It is one of the purposes driving him.”

They enter the mess and Spock stops just inside the door, making Kirk look at him expectantly.

“As are you, Captain.”

Kirk blinks. “And his crew.”

“Naturally, but I had expected his crew to take up a large portion of his thoughts. I had not expected for you to do the same.”

Kirk doesn’t really have an answer to that. He doesn’t have an answer to many questions involving Khan, including the ferocity with which he has pursued project Moonraker.

“Your ability to evoke trust in the unlikeliest of people,” Spock continues, “by seeing something in them that is perceptible for your eyes only is inspiring.”

Kirk feels a burst of warmth spread through him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Spock tilts his head. “It is merely an observation; though it is, naturally, a complimentary one.”

Kirk snickers, heads over to get his lunch and then sits with Spock at a table in the corner.  
“Alright. Tell me about the man we lost.”

Spock sits straight. “It would appear that he was... the prototype.”

Kirk pulls a face.

“Mister Singh did not react favourably to that term, either, but he had to concede that it is nonetheless applicable.”

Kirk swallows a bite. “So what happened?”

“It is difficult to say with certainty, but I have to agree with Doctor McCoy that the estimation we have reached is the most likely one.”

Kirk continues eating. Might as well, since Spock will definitely not need his input on that...

“It would appear that the DNA modifications that have been added to Mister Singh’s signature when he was a child have been engineered into the DNA of Mister Hristov from his conception. They must have been duplicated and added to the remaining members of the experiment once it became possible.”

“Hristov?”

“Yes, Captain. Despite some minor differences in the readings, his DNA did not appear to be different from the others until the very end when the reconstruction was meant to take place, and there simply was no original blueprint to return to.”

Kirk doesn’t like the sound of that. “Are you saying that the procedure would have killed Khan had he been engineered the way he was from the start?”

Spock nods. “That appears likely.”

“But we thought he was!” Kirk protests. “We didn’t know that it’s been added when he was a child until after the procedure.”

Spock nods, again. “Indeed. But Doctor McCoy had tested the procedure on single cells of Mister Singh and found it a viable possibility. He had no reason to suspect that such corrections on the DNA of a living person were even possible three hundred years ago.”

“Shit.” Kirk rubs his forehead. “Khan didn’t know that Hristov was different?”

“He did not. All seventy-three children were raised within the very same facility and at the same time. And while he agrees that, in retrospect at least, Mister Hristov appeared to have been an aggressive child, it did not cause suspicion, since they were all trained for combat from an early age.”

Kirk resolutely keeps eating, even though the image of seventy-three children basically being bred, harvested and turned into killing machines makes his stomach churn.  
“Everybody else is fine?” he finally asks.

“Yes. Though they have not all been woken, yet, they are all in good health.”

“They are still being woken in groups of two?”

Again, Spock confirms. “Yes, with the exception of one group of three, since it did not seem advisable to confront anyone with the present situation while they are alone and under surveillance in a locked hospital room with the only other familiar person being able to leave.”

Kirk mentally adds the reason why there are no longer thirty-six groups of two, but remains silent.

“So far, there appears to be less confusion than could be observed after Mister Singh’s treatment. The medical crew assumes that it is because the prolonged exposure to cryo stasis did not allow the brain to acclimatise to its original state before the procedure.”

Kirk tilts his head. “You watched the footage of Khan being woken after the procedure?”

“I have watched the recordings of both before and after the procedure, as well as a selection of counselling sessions. After asking for his permission, of course. I am not technically allowed insight into material that is bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, no matter the unusual legal situation.”

Kirk smiles.

“In addition, I have found that Mister Singh prefers full disclosure – perhaps unsurprisingly, given his past – and I have come to the conclusion that it will be beneficial to his integration if I were to acquiesce to this more than reasonable if unvoiced request.”

“I think it’s because you’re awesome.” Kirk grins.

Spock contemplates that. “A compliment?”

“A complimentary observation.”

Spock doesn’t smile, but it’s a close thing.

 

They enter the facility together, finding Khan inside one of the rooms, McCoy, Stadi and another telepath outside.

They position themselves next to McCoy and his console, observing quietly.

One man and one woman are sitting on a bed each. They are still leaning against the head board, exhausted but alert. Khan is standing between them with a comforting hand on the arm of the man who is clearly agitated. The woman appears concerned but generally calmer.

“You can have access to all the information you wish. I guarantee it,” Khan reassures the man.

The man doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you even authorised to give such guarantees? You are a prisoner.”

“Because I, unlike you, have committed serious crimes against this society. You are not a prisoner; you are a patient, and access to information is therefore not restricted.”

The woman straightens in her seat. “But we are locked in here.”

Khan nods, once, calmly. “This is for your own safety as much as theirs. The medical procedure you underwent was massive, and you need time to adjust. Allow yourself that time.” He smiles a benign little smile. “You will find that your patience has improved. Among other things.”

The man looks confused and searching for a moment, but some of his tension leaves him, so Khan removes his hand and turns towards the glass to ask the doctors what their opinion on the patients is.

“Ah.” He blinks. “Captain, Commander,” he greets the men who return the greeting with a nod (and Kirk with smiling eyes).

The woman suspiciously eyes the newcomers. “Why should we trust them? They can walk freely and survey us at all times.”

Khan tilts his head. “Without the interference of Captain Kirk and Commander Spock, you would all have died. Twice, I believe,” he adds after a short pause (mostly for dramatic effect, making McCoy roll his eyes). “And it is through Captain Kirk’s initiative that this chance was offered to us and we could be woken.” He can see McCoy cross his arms from the corner of his eyes and grins a bit. “And, of course, through Doctor McCoy’s innovative treatment.”

“Thank you,” McCoy says, sardonically.

“I suggest you use the time you have to eat and rest. You may read the information pertaining to the treatment you have received, which you should of course do, but do not neglect the planet’s history.” His eyes briefly wander to Spock. “As you will see, Commander Spock does not belong to the only alien race humanity has encountered in the past centuries, and there are currently two more people beyond that glass who are not Human.” This gets Khan a reaction, and he smirks.  
“You did not even notice that. So, as I’m sure you’ll agree, your stay at this facility is neither arbitrary nor solely to ensure that you are not likely to leave on a murderous spree. You do not know this world, yet.” The patients don’t answer, but their expressions are answer enough.  
“If you are doing well, nothing speaks against you meeting with other members of our crew. You will not be isolated in this room for long, and... your calls will not go unheard.”

Kirk tenses. There is something in the sound of Khan’s voice he doesn’t like; the same thing he can see in the patients’ faces. Recognition. Memory.

Khan takes no notice of Kirk’s reaction. “There are people in this facility solely assigned to help you adjust to the genetic changes with all that entails and to the world you have woken in.”  
He notices that their strength is leaving them, despite their awakening having been less strenuous than his own, and he leans in, lowering the head-pieces of their beds, again. He lays a hand on one of each of their shoulders.  
“Do not hesitate to contact someone if you experience any pain, discomfort or confusion. You can also contact me, directly if you wish.”

They don’t protest.

“You have trusted me once, before,” Khan says. “All I ask is that you consider trusting me one more time.”

He remains where he is and watches them fall asleep, then he releases a deep breath and nods for the security to open the door. Some of the tension leaves him, and there is a twinkle in his eyes when he says, “James,” in greeting. Perhaps Doctor McCoy wasn’t completely wrong when he called Khan’s usage of Kirk’s given name an _’inside joke’_. For some reason, it certainly feels humorous to him.

The humour is not lost on Kirk who grins back. “Khan. Things are going well?”

Khan resists the verbiage that is so common to people and would just demand a positive response, instead he considers the question.  
“We have woken one third of my crew and are within schedule,” he allows, haltingly.

McCoy huffs. “He means to say we are within _my_ schedule but not his.”

“I had hoped,” Khan elaborates, “that we could wake everyone on the same day.” He ignores McCoy’s second huff. “I did not... anticipate that the task of introducing my people to this world would be... quite so emotionally draining.”

Kirk catches on quickly. “Well, it must be emotionally draining for them, too. And this way, you can revisit the ones who are already awake, later. They will profit from that and can perhaps help you tomorrow with the other half.”

Khan nods, staring into the now darkened room, absently.

“Alright?” Kirk asks.

“Yes,” he says, but keeps watching the two sleeping figures. “It proved difficult to offer certainty and guidance, while so many things remain that I am uncertain about, myself.”

“You are certain enough to know that we’re on the right track.” Kirk, on the other hand, _is_ certain. Unwaveringly certain. It makes Khan look at him.

“Yes.” This time, the answer is more firm. “I am.”

“And you were certain only moments after you woke up, right? I mean, you were pretty out of it, still, but you knew, then, didn’t you?”

More tension leaves Khan. If he wasn’t so relieved to being able to breathe properly again, he’d be baffled at Kirk’s uncanny ability.  
“Yes.”

“They’ll know, too. You’ll see. And they have you to confirm it.”

Khan reads those steadfast eyes in front of his. He doesn’t know what it is about Kirk that makes him believe him (any more than he knows what it is about Khan that makes Kirk believe in _him_ ).  
“You do what you can,” he recites Kirk’s words from the day before.

“And you keep doing it.” Kirk grins. “Well, then,” he says, returning the project at large, now that Khan seems more at ease. “Bones, what are the readings of the people awake?”

McCoy shows him a tablet with the summaries. “They are genetically and emotionally stable. There is some displacement confusion, but that was to be expected.”

Kirk nods, skimming the reports. “How are they dealing with the anger?”

Khan steps in. “Not all of them are yet aware of the precise nature of the genetic manipulation that has taken place in our childhood. Those that are have indeed reacted with anger, but the telepathic readings confirm that it is not detrimental to a reintegration.”

Kirk smiles at him. “Good. That colony is almost within reach, now. See? Told you.”

Khan looks vaguely optimistic, but also like he’s not sure if he should trust his own judgement on the subject.

McCoy smirks. “You know,” he addresses Khan, “despite the fact that this one,” he points at Kirk with a thumb over his shoulder, “is a lunatic with questionable credentials to command a starship...”

“Hey!”

McCoy ignores Kirk’s protests. “He does have the tendency to _somehow_ make things work out alright in the end when he’s in charge,” he finishes, good-naturedly.

Kirk raises an eyebrow at him, but decides to quit while he’s ahead. There’s no telling what else McCoy could still add to that statement. Instead, he turns to Spock.  
“Anything snarky to add?”

“Not at this point, Captain.”

McCoy grins at that, and Khan snickers.

Kirk rolls his eyes. “Oh, you’re all hilarious,” he says, dryly.  
“As I was going to say on the topic of the _colony_ ,” he changes the subject, “before I was so rudely interrupted,” he sends McCoy a pointed look that is answered with an unrepentant smirk, so Kirk returns to looking at Khan, “my mother will arrive tomorrow.”

McCoy’s smirk disappears. “Your mom?”

Spock is equally surprised. “Captain?”

Kirk enjoys the surprise all around, his eyes finally resting on McCoy. “I said I wanted someone I trust on that colony.”

Khan smiles, calmly. “I look forward to meeting your mother. She should be quite the character.”

Kirk crosses his arms. “Clearly the only reason to unfreeze you was the fact that there was not nearly enough snark flung in my direction.”

Khan reads the humour in that statement with no difficulty. “As with Doctor McCoy’s colourful statement, earlier, my words were intended as a compliment.”

Damn. There’s that warmth, again. Kirk has to smile. Then he remembers something and is glad that he has yet another excuse up his sleeve to change the direction of the discussion.  
“Right. Spock.” He turns to look at him. “Uhura sent a message. She’ll be here for a briefing on some new communicator technology and a... uh...” he tries to remember, “... a linguistics symposium at the Academy. She couldn’t reach you, yesterday, so she asked me to tell you she’ll be here tomorrow or the day after.”

Spock tilts his head. “Thank you. I will contact her to arrange a meeting. Furthermore,” he adds after a moment’s consideration, “may I request permission to apprise her of the situation?”

“Permission granted.”

Spock nods his thanks, then faces Khan. “Mister Singh?”

Khan blinks, surprised. After a second he realises that Spock is asking him for his permission, as well. “I have no preference. You may inform whomever you wish.”

McCoy shifts. “Well, then. Ready to go back to work?”

And, Khan is now certain again, he is ready.

*

“Well, if it isn’t the best looking captain in the ‘Fleet!”

Kirk grins and pulls his mother into a hug. “Hi, mom.” She doesn’t let go for a good, long while, and he finds that he doesn’t mind one bit.

When she leans back, she frames his face. “So good to see you, Jim.”

“You too.”

She rubs his cheek with her thumb, once, then straightens. “So. Shall we go inside?”

“Yes, let’s.” He offers his arm to her which she takes with a wide grin.

She pats his arm with her free hand and then moves the strap of her bag back into position to keep it from slipping off. “Tell me about your new friend.”

“You’ll meet him in a minute,” he says, chuckling.

When the main doors close behind them, she continues. “When you told me about this project for the first time, I didn’t think it was a particularly good idea,” she admits.

“Most people didn’t. But, well, you saw the readings of the DNA. I couldn’t just... ignore that information.”

“No...” she agrees, musingly, then she smiles. “It did turn out much better than expected, though.”

Kirk grins. “Yeah. Well, Bones thought that it was a medical possibility, but we didn’t know how much was actually a medical issue and what was just, I dunno, a horrible personality.”

She laughs. “The telepathic readings are in agreement on that one.”

Kirk smiles a relieved, happy smile. “Yeah.” He looks at her. “They are. I mean,” he corrects himself, “that doesn’t mean they’ll all be selfless humanitarians, but they’re... doing well, so far.”

“And they’re all awake, now?”

Kirk nods. “Some were woken this morning and are asleep, again, but, yeah. They were all awake at some point, now.”

Winona stands and stops her son with a hand on his arm. “You actually like him, don’t you?”

Kirk blinks. “Khan? He’s...” He doesn’t really know what Khan is. He does know what Khan does, however, and he’s surprised to find that his mother is right. He’d been thinking in terms of the future ever since they’d come up with this plan, and though he’d known pretty soon that Khan could _become_ a person he might get along with, he never realised that he... already liked him.  
He’d be lying if he said that he’s not still wary of him, and that the memory doesn’t weigh heavily, but, yes. He likes the person Khan is heading towards being, even if neither of them really knows who that person is, yet.

“He’s trying so hard, mom. Trying to help his people, trying to find his place in life and dealing with the realisation of what he’s done and what has been done to him.” His eyes lose focus. “Trying to understand what’s inside of him, in that gap that’s never been there before. He told me that it used to be so easy, you know? He had a simple direction. Protect his own and destroy everything in the way of them taking over.”

“Bit radical for a direction.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, but it _is_ one. He doesn’t have that security, now. He needs to figure out who he is and what he wants, not what he’s been programmed to be and do.”  
He can’t help but grin, again.  
“And the best thing is that he doesn’t even mind. He’s confused and angry and sometimes terrified of not knowing, but he loves the challenge.” Yes, that really is the best thing. Kirk can thoroughly relate to that.

Winona smiles, softly. “I can see why you would like him.”

“To be honest, I didn’t think I would. I would have been glad to see him become a functioning member of society. Or even have him locked away, as long as it was _him_ and not a puppet.”

Winona nods. “You wanted him to make his own choice, not to live in the shadow of a gap left in his DNA...”

Kirk’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he licks his lips and swallows. The following smile is painful, and he has to avert his eyes before he can look at his mother, again.  
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

She smiles at him, understanding. “Well, the colony got authorised, two hours ago, and the details will be negotiated tomorrow. He’ll have that choice.”

Kirk nods. He knows that. He’ll be partaking in the negotiations, himself. “Let’s get you introduced, then.”

 

They go downstairs, finding the guards only standing by the main entrance and no longer in front of the individual rooms.

Most of the rooms are open, now, except for the ones that are darkened and the inhabitants asleep. The observatory is constantly occupied, so any changes in mood or general thoughts would be detected immediately. 

Since things are calm, Kirk supposes that everything is still going well.  
He nods at some of the patients who are in their rooms, reading or exercising and briefly look up to greet him.

Khan sits in his own room with Doctor Stadi and several members of his crew, talking quietly. When Kirk comes into sight, he perks up and stands.  
“Captain.”

Kirk wonders where the _’James’_ went, and whether it was missing for the benefit of his mother, Khan’s crew or Doctor Stadi.  
“Mister Singh,” he says, deciding not to break the pattern. “May I introduce my mother, Winona Kirk.”

Khan takes her hand in greeting. “We appreciate your presence.” And he does. The presence of someone who would always have their best interests in mind and bend regulations if necessary is incredibly valuable. In addition, the fact that it is Kirk’s mother speaks volumes of Kirk’s trust in Khan. He has every intention of valuing this trust and to prove to Winona Kirk that the trust she has in her son’s judgement is not misplaced.

“Thank you,” she says. “We are not interrupting something important?”

“Not at all.” He signs the newcomers to take a seat and introduces his crew members by name, all of whom nod, but remain silent but watchful. 

Kirk is surprised at the terrestrial and multicultural variety of the names, but then again, he supposes that the large number of scientists involved in the project probably all wanted an equal say in the naming of their... creations. He ignores that troublesome aspect and decides to just enjoy the variety on its own.

“We have been discussing potential future career aspects with Doctor Stadi,” Khan continues, “narrowing the field according to our earlier education and fields of competence.”

Kirk wonders what their _’fields of competence’_ would be, and if he even wants to know.

“I am sure,” Khan adds with a pointed look towards Winona Kirk, “that – being an anthropologist – you have valuable insight.”

She smiles. “I will do my best to help.”

Kirk tilts his head. “Not sure what the hearing tomorrow will bring, but they’ll probably rule that you won’t be allowed to design weapons. At least not for a while.”

Khan shares a quick look with his crew members and smirks, slightly. “Most of us appear to be in a somewhat contrary mood, and we have no intentions of doing what we were originally designed to do.”

Kirk grins. “I can relate to that.” His mother, tactfully (but amused), doesn’t add to that.

“We are all trained in engineering,” Khan continues, “weapons and otherwise, and I have no doubts that my crew has the capability to quickly adapt to the new technologies. Strategic planning and psychology can find a multitude of applications as well.”

Kirk nods. “Having you remotely study at Starfleet Academy from the colony is one of the topics I’ll discuss tomorrow. Since this is a ‘Fleet project, your education should be a part of your reintegration, and the Academy offers a variety of fields.”

“Ah, excellent,” Stadi agrees. “I was going to suggest other institutions, as well, but Starfleet Academy would offer a good foundation onto which it should be possible to build a life, and it offers insight into the organisation you will all be working with.”

Khan’s crew members are listening, but still keep their thoughts to themselves. Kirk wonders if they’ve been this quiet prior to his arrival, or if it’s him that makes them uncomfortable. Khan doesn’t seem worried, so he decides not to make too much of it.  
“And nothing speaks against joining the ‘Fleet, eventually, I guess.” He shrugs. “It’s an option.”

Khan merely looks at him. “While this might be a possibility for my crew – always assuming that the more apprehensive members of your Starfleet can be convinced that they pose no danger to them – I highly doubt I will ever be leaving that colony, again, James.”

Kirk smiles at his name having a comeback. “We’ll see. You’d do well in a space suit.” He smirks.

“Much better than you, Captain.”

Kirk snickers, almost as amused at the banter as he is at the fact that they have apparently come to a point where they can joke about isolated parts of their... eventful past.  
His communicator interrupts them.  
“Kirk here.”

“Scott, here, Cap’n.”

“Yes, Scotty, how’re we doing?”

“If ye don’ get these ruddy inspectors off ma back, A cannae guarantee that A won’ blow up before the ship does!”

Kirk’s eyebrows shoot up, and he holds back a laugh. “Look, you have my express permission to reverse any modifications they’re doing that you don’t approve of, but I can’t get them off the ship. They’re there to make sure she _doesn’t_ explode, you know.”

“But they don’ know our gal like we do, Cap’n! She’s got ‘er moods, she needs tae be treated right!”

This makes Khan chuckle. “Is that the Mister Scott from the Vengeance?” he asks quietly (but apparently not quietly enough).

Scott stops in his tirade. “Cap’n...”

Kirk shares a look with Khan and a slight nod, indicating, that, yes, this is very much the same Mister Scott...

“Please tell me that this is _not_ who A think it is...”

“Yeah, it is, but it’s alright,” he says, quickly. “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you all about it. Don’t worry.”

“Don’ worry?!” Scott shrieks. “This is what ye said, last time. That ‘t was a long story. An it wasn’!”

“Mister Scott!” Kirk interrupts him in his best captain’s voice. “I understand that you’re upset, and I will explain everything to you, as soon as I can. This is Starfleet and Federation sanctioned, and I cleared it with both McCoy _and_ Spock.” He pauses to let that sink in. He thinks that, since McCoy and Spock agree so rarely, it should have the desired effect on Scotty. He could still add the _other_ Spock if it turned out that he had to. “Alright?”

Scott remains silent for a moment. “A don' like this, Cap’n.”

Before Kirk can answer, Khan does.

“Perhaps you should see to the issue with the inspectors and clear up this other matter, on-site?” he suggests. “I appreciate your company, but we both have important matters to attend to.”

Kirk releases a breath. “Yeah, alright. Scotty, I’m coming over.”

“Nou?” And dammit if he doesn’t sound hopeful. And perhaps a bit frightened.

“Yeah. Will take me a bit to get there, though.”

“Thenk ye,” Scott breathes out, relieved. “An, Jim...”

Kirk smiles. “Yes, I’m careful. But I did mean it. Everything’s fine.”

“If ye say so.”

“I do. Kirk out.” He flips his communicator close.

“I apologise for the disruption,” Khan says. “I should have anticipated that reaction, but you are always so very forthcoming with your crew that it did not occur to me to retain secrecy.”

Kirk rubs his face, groaning. “No, you’re right. You’re all in good hands, and I should take care of my ship and crew.” He says it and means it, but he doesn’t sound thrilled.

His mother leans closer. “You’re going to have to let go of this project when you leave for that mission of yours you’re so keen on.”

Kirk nods and smiles at her. “I’m leaving it in capable hands, but I’m not just letting go.” He looks at Khan. “I know you can do this, but I also want you to know that you can always count on me, even when I’m not in the neighbourhood.”

“I know, James. And I’m sure we’ll find the time for that rematch before you have to leave.”

Kirk stands and points a finger at Khan. “Damn right, we will. I don’t like being stalemated.”

“You’d rather lose?”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.”

They grin at each other for a moment, before he takes his leave, assuring his mother that he’ll be back, soon.

*

The hearing the next day takes from the morning until well into the evening, and Kirk leaves it exhausted but satisfied. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t feel like going back to his quarters to get some sleep, but instead returns to the facility around midnight.

All the sensible patients are asleep, and only the security is still up. The security and – so it seems from the light – Khan himself. Kirk isn’t surprised at Khan still being awake, either.

He walks along the sombre hall towards the soft light at the other end. 

Khan’s room is not closed, and he sits at his table, apparently designing something. He looks up when Kirk comes into view.

“Hey.”

“Good evening,” he says and points at the screen in front of him. “I decided that I should fill my time waiting with something useful.”

Kirk sits beside him and looks at the basic design of a house, clearly situated within the environment of what must be the future colony. “Yours?”

Khan doesn’t answer immediately, but gazes through the screen, not really seeing the image. Eventually, he looks up, apprehensively. It takes a moment before he can make himself ask, “Is it?”

Kirk’s soft smile becomes a grin. “Yes, it is.”

Khan’s shoulders relax, he breathes out and closes his eyes for a moment.

Kirk still smiles, but a frown appears on his forehead, and he lays a hand on Khan’s arm. “You were worried? You should have said something. The colony was pretty much a given after your treatment was a success. We were just negotiating the details...”

Khan opens his eyes again, and, this time, he sees his house. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Kirk almost brushes it off, but the sincerity in Khan’s voice stops him. “You’re welcome.” When Khan finally looks up, again, Kirk leans back and adds, “They wanted to have you all under surveilled house arrest on your colony for eight years, but I got that down to five. I want to be back when they’re re-evaluating your situation.”

Khan nods, slightly. “My people will not take issue with that. They prefer to be well prepared for this world, if they even were to decide to eventually leave the colony, which I’m not sure they will.”

“Good.”

“They wish to take advantage of the learning opportunity.”

Kirk still smiles. “You’ll do great, and they can decide for themselves what they want to do in five years’ time. Unless something happens during that time, and someone... I don’t know... flies off the handle, they’ll be free to go.”

Khan nods, again. “Nobody will _’fly off the handle’_ ,” he says, amused. “And if that is the only thing that could change the parameters of the agreement, then they will be free to go in five years,” he says with certainty.

Kirk grins a bit. “The same will most likely apply to you, you know.”

At that, Khan stares at him, wide-eyed. “You cannot be serious.”

Kirk shrugs. “There will be another hearing in five years. They’ll hear you, your counsellors, various telepaths, probably my mother and even me... but if that all comes out clear, you’ll be treated like the rest of your crew.”

Khan blinks. “Surely, the punitive measures have not changed this drastically? Even in three hundred years?”

“Not normally, no. And had you been in your right mind, this would be out of the question. But... you weren’t.”

“But I did still do all those things,” Khan protests, slowly becoming agitated as incomprehensible memories resurface that refuse to fit into a unified past and present.

“You did. And you’re going to have to learn to deal with that.” He remembers what Stadi has said during the hearing. “According to Doctor Stadi, you still can’t even really comprehend everything that’s happened, because it’s too far removed from what makes sense to you, now. You can be held accountable for your actions prior to your treatment, but not held responsible.”

“A technicality,” Khan insists.

“A big one, in this particular case. You as a person are accountable to this society to not do it any harm, but you cannot be held responsible for the actions you committed while under a genetic compulsion over which you had no control.”

Khan remains silent.

“That is one of the decisions that were made at the hearing, today, and in five years, another hearing will confirm it.”  
When Khan still doesn’t respond, Kirk sighs. “Look, it’s not like this was an easy decision for that council, and they do want to keep an eye on everything for those five years, but with all the medical data we have, there was no other possible outcome.”

Eventually, Khan nods. “I will keep the back brace, for now,” he decides, firmly, adding a different thought that has been coursing through his mind. “It appears to put the people around me at ease, and... it is... _’grounding’_ me, I believe Doctor Stadi has called it, and I would have to agree.”

Kirk shrugs. “Bones won’t like it, but... I see your point.” He wonders if guilt plays into that, or if that is a road that is still quite a way ahead. “If it makes you feel safer, and if it helps other people to interact with you, keep it.”

Khan relaxes, marginally. “The transfer to the colony will have to be taken into consideration, but it should pose no problem to program the device accordingly.”

“Nope. No problem.” Then he grins. “Also, getting you to the colony will be the Enterprise’s very first task on her five-year mission.”

Khan perks up.

“That means we’ll definitely find the time to get to that rematch.”

Khan returns the grin, though haltingly.

*

A few weeks later, Khan is in his room, watching the live transmission of the memorial service held in remembrance of the losses of one year prior. He knows that his crew is watching, as well, most of them in groups, but he decided to follow the proceedings on his own.

His memories might be clear and complete, but they still _feel_ disjointed – and will do so for a long time to come, according to Stadi – and he wanted the privacy to explore what he is feeling, further.

When it is time for Kirk to hold his speech, some of those feelings finally become clearer.

 

_“Our first instinct is to take revenge when those we love are taken from us. But that’s not who we are.”_

And it is not who I am, Khan thinks.

_“We are here today to re-christen the USS Enterprise and to honour those who lost their lives, nearly one year ago. When Christopher Pike first gave me his ship, he had me recite the Captain’s Oath. Words I didn’t appreciate at the time. Now, I see them as a call for us to remember who we once were and who we must be, again.”_

As Pike has given Kirk the words and the means to become who he is, Kirk has done the same for Khan, who now has the chance to be the person the child he once was might have been destined to become.

 

_“And those words? Space. The final frontier...”_

 

Never before since his awakening has Khan been able to feel the pain of his past as clearly as in that moment, and never before has he felt the joy of claiming that pain and working with it towards one goal... A goal that Kirk has told him might be within reach, a mere five years in the future.

He smiles at the emotions he can now feel so deeply – both good and bad – and watches Kirk finish his speech.

“Space...” Khan murmurs. “Why not, James? Why not...”

 


	5. Lives to Lead

Carol Marcus braces herself, then takes a deep breath and enters the medical detainment facility. She understands Kirk’s reasoning behind having _her_ be the one to accompany soon-to-be colonist Khan Noonien Singh and his crew to the Enterprise (with the appropriate number of security officers, of course). More than that, she would have volunteered without hesitation had she been aware of Kirk needing someone familiar with the case and Khan himself to oversee the transport. Not the _prisoner_ transport, Kirk had to remind the powers that be…

Khan is now officially no longer a prisoner, but a mental patient in need of supervision, similar to his crew, though his restrictions are more elaborate, legally speaking.

Marcus is confident that Khan will not react negatively to her being the one to join them on the shuttle to the Enterprise, but she is less certain about his crew – who have been updated on history, including that surrounding her infamous father.

She does not let her insecurity falter her purposeful steps, telling herself that Stadi would be with her, along with the security and three other counsellors.

When she enters the lower hall with the detainment rooms, everybody is ready to leave, standing in small groups of five or six with one guard per group already in place. Neither guards nor patients appear particularly uneasy because of the surveillance or the impending departure.

She notices Khan speaking with Doctor Stadi to the side, but he approaches Marcus immediately when he sees her.

“Doctor Marcus,” he says and holds out his hand in greeting.

She takes it, and almost manages to hold back the quiver of nerves in her voice when she replies. The last time she has seen him, there was a thick wall of glass between them.  
“Mister Singh. You seem to be ready to go.”

Khan lets go of her hand and straightens, holding his hands behind his back. “I believe I never thanked you for bringing our case to Captain Kirk’s attention…”

She clears her throat and licks her lips, her eyes briefly scanning over Khan’s crew. “It was the least I could do, and somebody had to,” she says, looking at him sombrely.

“I am sure that not everyone would agree with that assessment.”

Carol thinks of her father. Remembers his death, remembers how, only minutes before watching him die, she told him that she was ashamed to be his daughter. It makes her feel angry, helpless and guilty. Angry because she is still ashamed of her father, helpless because she could not prevent his death, and guilty for both her father’s actions and her rejection of the man who raised her.  
She can feel herself starting to tremble and forces it down.  
“It was my father’s fault, in some way or other, all of it. And nobody else would fix it.”

Khan hesitates. “I am sorry for what it did to you. What I did on the bridge of the Vengeance.”

Marcus’ throat works furiously, but she raises her chin defiantly, in spite of her chest and throat constricting and her eyes stinging. “I know why you did it.”

“So do I,” Khan agrees. “But that does not mean that it was right.”

Marcus manages a weak smile. “I am glad to see that my efforts were not in vain.”

“They were not,” Khan confirms without hesitation. “Thank you,” he repeats.

Doctor Stadi joins them, looking pleased but not adding to the discussion. Nor does she voice any approval of Khan’s words. She has learned very quickly that Khan merely requires her assistance, not her approval. _Kirk’s_ approval, on the other hand, is something else, entirely…

“Doctor Stadi,” Marcus greets her. 

“Doctor Marcus.” Stadi nods.

“I believe we are about ready to go. I’ll just finalise the release process with the head of security.” Marcus steps aside, gives the necessary documentation to the man heading the security and then returns.

“Mister Singh,” she addresses Khan with no further ado, “We will be beamed directly to the shuttles by a site-to-site transport, and you will have to stay with me until we are on the Enterprise.”

Khan nods.

“My proximity transmitter attuned to your back brace is time-sensitive and will only work for the duration of the shuttle ride. After that, it will be bound to the Enterprise and further monitoring at the discretion of her captain.” She has to grin a bit at that last part.

“Yes, thank you.” He has been informed of that, before. He had even been the one to suggest the time-sensitivity of the transmitters that would be in use outside of the facility and the Enterprise. His lip twitches. “The captain is not in favour of any additional restrictions on board his ship, despite my reservations concerning the peace of mind of his crew.”

Marcus has to laugh. “Yes, that sounds like him.” Her smile softens. “I do not believe that it will be a problem. The journey only takes a little over a day, including the stop along the way to pick up additional supplies. And I’m not sure just how much Captain Kirk will tell his crew about the passengers we’ll be carrying…”

Khan grins a bit. “But then we both know that Captain Kirk is unusually forthcoming for a commanding officer.”

Marcus nods. “He understands what it is like to have your crew be your family.”

“That he does.”

They are being interrupted by a technician. “Doctor Marcus. We are ready for transport.”

“Thank you.” She wonders if she should be the one announcing it to the waiting passengers, but Khan merely turns around and shares a quick look with his people. They all visibly straighten, and Marcus wonders if they are in any way apprehensive or only curious about their first beaming experience, but then the world dissolves around her.

*

Khan is in one of the temporary quarters for him and his crew, discussing options for the colony with his five roommates, when the Enterprise is about to depart and Kirk makes his announcement.

 _“Attention, crew of the Enterprise, this is Captain Kirk. I am happy to welcome you all on the first five-year exploratory mission that Starfleet has ever commissioned, and I guess I don’t have to tell you what an honour it is that we have been chosen for this endeavour.”_ He pauses, and Khan has the feeling that Kirk is improvising, not having been sure what to say on the matters at hand until that very moment.  
_“As you can tell from the log, before we head towards plains unknown, we are to accompany a group of colonists to a colony designated as Moonraker.”_ Kirk sounds amused, and Khan grins, as well.  
_“The specifics of this colony and its inhabitants are still classified, at this point. However, the Enterprise has been exempt from this restriction, and I have decided to make use of that.”_ He pauses, again.  
_“We all know what happened on the last mission this ship has been involved in, one year ago, when we were sent to retrieve a fugitive terrorist by the name of John Harrison. Those of you who have been on board at the time will even know his true identity: Khan Noonien Singh. In the past year – and through intense studies of Mister Singh’s medical history as well as that of his crew that has been in cryo-stasis – it came to light that he acted under the compulsion of severe DNA manipulation and in reaction to blackmail and exploitation by Admiral Marcus, who has posthumously been found guilty of serious crimes against Starfleet, the Federation and Humanity._  
_“Mister Singh and his crew have undergone DNA treatment, since, and after thorough medical and psychological examinations are now granted a new life on Moonraker._  
_“I understand that many of you will be apprehensive at this news. You have my word that I have personally overseen this project and can vouch for Mister Singh and his crew, both for the duration of their stay on board this ship and for the continuation of their reintegration on the colony.”_

Khan only breathes twice during this part, and he has to remind himself of it, both times. Well. At least he still knows Kirk well enough to anticipate the startling openness.

Kirk continues. _“If you find you have further questions or concerns, you may contact your superior officer. I can only repeat that I have full confidence in this project, and that I feel privileged to be a part of it. Kirk out.”_

Khan has the full attention of five people when the transmission ends.

“Was this wise?” one woman asks him. “Informing the crew about our identity?”

Khan is somewhat torn about that question, himself. “The crew has Captain Kirk’s full confidence,” he replies, and then finishes with, “and the Captain, in return, has his crew’s trust.”

“And yours,” someone else says.

Khan knows his people well, but he can’t quite tell if there was an accusation in the tone of the voice, or if it was only a statement laced with curiosity.  
He decides to stick to Kirk’s tactic of truth. “Yes. As I have his.”

“You are very certain about that.” Not a question. But there is definitely curiosity, now.

“Even ignoring my experience with the man, I believe the involvement of his mother is unmistakeable.” He sends them a look, one after the other.

Before more concerns can be voiced, a transmission interrupts them.

_“McCoy to Singh.”_

“Singh here, Doctor.”

_“Report to med bay. I’m being informed that, apparently, it’s regulation to make sure that the beaming didn’t alter the DNA after treatment.”_

Khan raises an eyebrow. “Regulation?”

_“I was as surprised as you to hear that there are regulations concerning something that’s never been done before.”_

Khan chuckles. “I’ll be right there.” He stands when McCoy disconnects.  
“There is no cause for concern,” he tells the people with him, calmly. “We will arrive at the colony tomorrow. Until then, the Captain guarantees our safety. If you feel that it will be beneficial to you to join the others, please do not hesitate to do so. We are not restricted to these quarters.”

Though his people still look apprehensive and sceptical, he leaves, confident that they will be able to deal with the situation.

He ignores his own apprehension at walking unaccompanied through the ship. He nods at the crew members he encounters along the way to med bay. Some of them clearly know who he is, others don’t. None seem to in any way question his presence on the ship.

The dynamic between Kirk and his crew is truly inspiring, he thinks, just before entering Doctor McCoy’s domain. He knows that his own crew at this point trust him as implicitly, but he also feels very much like he needs to spend the next five years proving that he was not wrong with making this decision for them all. To prove that he is worthy of that trust.

The door opens as he nears it, and he steps inside.

“Ah, Mister Singh. Good.”

Khan nods at him, too. “Doctor.”

McCoy waves at a bed. “Have a seat,” he tells him and already takes out his equipment.

Khan does as he’s asked. He notices some barely concealed curious looks and one that has much more intent. He takes note of the woman, but doesn’t study her too intently, as not to make her uncomfortable.

McCoy approaches the bed. “They want me to take a blood sample and do a general scan.”

Khan rolls up his sleeve, smirking slightly. “You do not approve?”

McCoy huffs. “Now, I’m no fan of beaming, either, but this is just ridiculous.” He takes the blood sample and hands it to a nurse, then he reaches for a tricorder and begins the scan.

Khan leaves him to it for a moment, but soon speaks up. “I find that it eases my mind to have regular confirmations of my overall condition,” he admits. He doesn’t say how it tells him that this is real and not just a smokescreen. That this is his life, not the memory he has. Something visible, tangible, something… that he can understand.

McCoy briefly looks up, his expression turning almost imperceptively softer, then he focuses on the scanner again. “In that case, I am willing to provide.” He finishes his work, turns off the device, puts it away and smiles at Khan. “You’re perfectly healthy. Nurse?”

The woman analysing Khan’s blood – the very same who has shown the strongest reaction to him entering the room – looks up from her readings. “The results are clear, Doctor.”

Khan sends her a calm smile. “Thank you.”

She nods, curtly and quickly averts her eyes.

For a second, Khan contemplates not voicing his thoughts. But in the end, he can’t but acknowledge what he has read in her reactions, her body language, eye movement, tone of voice...  
“You have lost someone,” Khan says, “because of what I did.”

The woman freezes but doesn’t turn around to face him. “You are very perceptive, Mister Singh.”

He doesn’t reply to that, but the people in the room clearly know what she is talking about. He sends McCoy a look that – so he hopes – conveys that he doesn’t approve of the doctor’s decision to not shield a grieving person from the one causing that grief.  
He does not care about having to deal with the situation himself, but there is no reason that he can see that would have required the woman to be here and not be spared the pain.

“My brother,” she eventually continues, unprompted. “He was just visiting San Francisco.” She turns enough so that she can look at Khan over her shoulder. “He wanted to see Starfleet Academy. Wanted to join when he was old enough.”

Khan can almost see the boy with the nurse’s curious eyes and forces down the pang of grief he has no right to feel.  
“I have no explanations or excuses for my actions in San Francisco Bay,” he says, telling her the only thing he can.

She huffs, staring at the reading of Khan’s blood. She firmly keeps her eyes on the reading she has just made and on the one from before the initial procedure. She reminds herself that – as a medical professional – she knows very well that any person with readings like Khan’s old ones never had the possibility to decide otherwise. To decide not to kill.  
Nevertheless, she is hurting, and Khan is here.  
“Do you have them for your other actions?”

“Explanations, yes. But no excuses.” Again, he gives her the only possible answer. He wants to offer more, wants to give reassurance, wants to tell her about the guilt and the grief that he feels. But that is not his place. Those are the feelings that _she_ is entitled to feel. Not him. Never him. He needs to endure them, not feel and deal with them.  
“What is your name?” he asks instead.

She turns fully to face him. “Stephens.”

“Lieutenant Stephens, I will never be able to repay you for what you have lost through my doing. But if there ever is something that I may do for you – and you feel that you can entrust me with the task – do not hesitate to claim whatever fraction of that debt you wish.”

She straightens and her jaw sets. “I don’t believe that I will. Weighing my brother’s life against favours will…”

“That was not my intention!” he interrupts her, genuinely aghast.

“It would ease your mind, not mine,” she continues, undeterred.

Khan contemplates that. Eventually, his shoulders sag, and he nods. He has no right to such relief, either.  
“I understand.” When he turns his head, he sees that McCoy has raised his tricorder again and then directs Khan’s attention to the screen by his bed.

“See that? That’s your reading, now, when you’re agitated.” He opens another reading. “That was you before.”

Khan uncomfortably watches the erratic edges from his old life.

“Lieutenant Stephens asked to be here for your examination,” he lets him know, clearly having read Khan’s earlier _look_ correctly and now answering it with an unimpressed one. “She was not ordered to do so, of course.”

Khan raises his head and looks first at McCoy, then at Stephens.

McCoy points at the screen, again. “ _This_ is what we need from you.”

Khan hesitates, avoiding eye contact. “If you wish,” he lets McCoy know, “I can supply you with regular medical updates and information about the progress on the colony.”

McCoy nods. “That will be acceptable,” he says, not merely speaking for himself.

Khan stands. It would seem that his guilt and grief are as unwanted by the people he has done wrong as they are by him. He has no right to them. He will just have to keep them where they are, now: hidden.

The door opens and distracts him from further musings.

“Ah!” Kirk enters, grinning. “Khan, there you are.”

“Captain…”

Kirk raises an eyebrow, amused. “You know, you can call me James when I’m calling you Khan… Just ask Bones.”

 _’Bones’_ rolls his eyes.

“That seems inappropriate in front of your crew, Captain.”

“Oh, fine, Mister Singh,” Kirk relents. “Your people seemed convinced that you must have been eaten on your way to med bay, after my addressing my crew, and I had to convince them otherwise.”

Khan’s lip quirks. “I doubt that this was the way they phrased it.”

“It was heavily implied.”

Khan’s grin widens.

“Also, I wanted to tell you that my mother has by now reached the colony.”

Khan nods. He has expected that.

“As has Ambassador Spock.”

At that, Khan tilts his head, surprised. “The ambassador wishes to join us on the colony?”

“For a while, apparently, yes. My Spock said something about meditation techniques that you would like to be taught, and I think the ambassador just needs the reassurance.”

McCoy huffs. “Just like everyone else.”

Khan nods, again. “I am uncertain in how far I can ease the ambassador’s mind. He has memories that I do not have.”

Kirk waves off his concerns. “He just wants to see some more that you’re not that guy.” He ponders that for a second. “And not the guy you were in this reality. Also…” he adds, sounding vague, “he said something about the worst things happening because of serious neglect.” He searches Khan’s eyes. “And I have no intention of doing that.”

Khan just smiles, slightly, incredulously. “It is foreign to your very nature.”

Kirk looks unconvinced. “Not sure about that. He sounded like, maybe… it’s not.”

“Captain… _James_. Surely, you do not consider blaming yourself for actions which may or may not have been committed by a man who has never existed?” He intently reads Kirk’s expression. “If you need reassurance that you are not a man who would wilfully neglect someone, you may have mine, should you want it.”

Kirk smiles ruefully. “Your assessment is always appreciated.”

“As is yours.”

The rue dissolves from the smile. “Well, then,” Kirk says, decisive. “That’s quite enough moaning and whining, wouldn’t you agree?”

It’s not Khan who answers, but McCoy. “Damn right. Now get the hell out, we have work to do.”

Kirk grins. “So do we.” He returns his attention to Khan. “We got some news on the housing on the colony. It’ll be ready by the time we get there, but you can still make some modifications if you wish.”

Khan tilts his head. “I do not believe that there is anything in particular that needs doing by the constructors. It was my intention to contribute anything that is not immediately necessary through my own work. The prospect of manual labour is… satisfying.”

Kirk looks at the man in front of him in something akin to wonder. It is almost incomprehensible how this is the same person who has manipulated and killed with no hesitation. Yet, he is undoubtedly the same man, and watching him grow into who he has the potential to be is not only satisfying but reassuring.  
Khan had been right when he said weeks ago that Kirk has always compared himself to Khan, has recognised himself in him, has feared that their potential is… similar. Now, Kirk can watch the other man evolve into someone who could one day be at peace with himself and the universe. And yet… yet Kirk can still see himself in him. They might just mature together some more.

Kirk smiles, honestly. “I know what you mean, Khan.” Then, abruptly, he claps the man on the arm and turns to go. “Let’s get cracking. There’s other stuff, too. Your people are already reviewing the processes of their own houses.” He looks over his shoulder. “Thanks, Bones!”

Khan stops in the door, turns around and searches the eyes of McCoy and Stephens. “Thank you for your medical assessment, as well. It is very much appreciated.”

The door closes behind them, and Kirk faces Khan. “Oh, right, would you mind reporting to engineering?”

“Engineering?” he asks, curiously. “Is that not your Mister Scott’s domain?”

Kirk grins. “It is. He asked if you would be willing to discuss the specs of your torpedoes with him. Not to recreate them,” he quickly adds. “With Scotty, it’s just scientific curiosity, and he’s much more likely to use whatever he learns to get us out of a tight spot by applying the tech to something where any sane human being wouldn’t even consider it.” He chuckles.

Khan nods. “I have no reservations to discuss the technology with your chief engineer, but Captain…” he adds and then hesitates, “… if I may ask… The reactions of your crew to my presence are…” He breathes out, frustrated. “I do not understand.”

Kirk ponders that. “Let’s walk.” He accompanies Khan to the turbo lift. “Many of us, if not all, are still grieving to some degree,” he starts, haltingly. “But we are explorers, scientists. We are curious, down to our cores. We know that… seeking blind revenge would make us what we resent in you, the you we’ve met the first time around. Denying you the chance, would be denying us ours.”

They step into the lift, and Khan remains silent.

“You will certainly find resentment among this crew. We are only human. But when it comes down to it, we will all do what’s right by you and by us. We all want to see where you are capable of taking yourself and your people.”

The lift door opens.

“Alright?” Kirk asks.

“Of course, Captain.” He leaves the lift, seeing Scott already approach him.

“You boys play nice,” Kirk calls after them before the door closes.

Scott all but struts towards Khan, his hands behind his back, his chin raised. “There is no need for that reminder, is there?” he asks Khan, as accusatory as he is assertive. “We are, after all, reasonable human beings.” He sounds as if he dares Khan to contradict him.

Khan, naturally, has no reason to do that. “Of course, Mister Scott.” He tilts his head, respectfully, in an attempt to calm Scott’s ruffled feathers.

Scott clears his throat. “Well, then.” He looks vaguely mollified. “If ye wouldn’ mind, A’d like te go over the specs of those torpedoes. A've seen them when they were brought on board, an' A’ve read the data, but that was spectacularly useless when it came te the shielding.”

Khan hums. “I assume you mean both the shielding of the interior and the shielding from potential enemy scanners.”

Scott nods, as if he waits for Khan to tell him that he won’t disclose that information.

“I have always assumed that the technology could also be used to shield the warp core more efficiently against attacks from the outside and to detain the radiation, but I was told that these were secondary concerns.”

“Secondary?!” he shrieks. “Those warmongering bureaucrats! Ye follow me, Mister Singh. We've things te discuss.”

Satisfied, Khan does just that.  
He prefers this Starfleet over the one Admiral Marcus has introduced him to. Why a society that would not even take care of its own people would ever express the idea that it was superior to others and in a position to rule is something that he has never been able to understand. If there is one thing that nobody could ever accuse him of, it is putting his people second to his ambitions.

*

As it turns out, Kirk and Khan don’t have the time for that chess match, after all. A few hours later, Khan and Spock oversee the transport of the supplies they are picking up together with several members of Khan’s crew, checking the completeness of the crates and their contents, as well as making sure that no biological organisms which might contaminate the new colony have managed to evade the previous inspection.

Spock writes down notes on his pad for his report. “You have no reservations about my counterpart joining you on the colony?”

“None,” Khan replies immediately, opening a crate and scanning the contents. “He has lived far longer than any of us and knows more about the future, whether or not that future ever comes to pass is of little consequence. I am sure his insights are a valuable addition to the colony for as long as he wishes to stay.”

Spock nods. “I am confident that they will be.”

“The contents are all accounted for and uncontaminated,” Khan announces, and Spock takes note. “In addition, he agreed with your assessment that Vulcan meditation practices are likely to be beneficial to all of us.” He pauses on the way to the next crate. “To me in particular, apparently.”

“Interesting. To what was he referring?”

Khan opens the crate. “He believes that I should learn to govern my emotions to ensure their healthy development. Otherwise, he fears – and Doctor Stadi agrees – that the emotions evoked by my memories of the events of one year ago might prove overwhelming.”

“I can see how that could be the case. Have you experienced this phenomenon, thus far?”

“All accounted for and clear,” Khan says about the cargo, closing the crate and walking to the next.  
“Somewhat,” he confirms. “It often manifests itself in an inability to process emotional responses. I have, on occasion, experienced what could be classified as a panic attack, though I have always been able to find my own way out of it in a timely fashion.”

Spock nods. “That is not an unusual reaction. Do you expect the spatial distance to Earth to be beneficial to your emotional development?”

Khan thinks about that while scanning the contents of the next crate. “I do,” he finally says. “It will be far away from memories, and we will all be able to focus on sustaining ourselves. Creation instead of destruction.”

Spock tilts his head. “You still have reservations.”

“Yes, naturally,” Khan says, slightly amused. It would be odd if he didn’t have any reservations. “I also may have… developed some kind of dependency on your captain.” He huffs, grinning a bit and closes the crate.

Spock does not appear surprised.

“Doctor Stadi thinks that it hasn’t progressed beyond the expected regard for someone who has saved one’s life.” He stands still, giving himself a moment to think about that before he moves on to the next crate.  
“I still estimate that the distance will be helpful in achieving a more natural response to him. One that is not tinged or even distorted by the rather intense past two months.”

Spock nods. “It is not unusual for a person to feel a strong regard for someone who has… nursed oneself to health, so to speak.”

Khan opens the crate and looks at Spock, searching. “Florence Nightingale Syndrome.”

Spock sends him one of his half-smiles. “I do not mean to diminish the connection you share with the captain, Mister Singh. It is quite clear that the regard you both feel would not have developed simply because of your gratitude.” His eyes briefly wander to the side.  
“I believe that he will… miss you, as well,” he says, confidently.

Khan stares at him.

“I, too, find your company intriguing,” Spock adds.

Khan straightens. “Likewise, Mister Spock.” 

They return to their work, and Khan finds that he appreciates many members of this crew, already. They are… so very diverse in their qualities.  
Diversity is not something he was raised to value. He was raised to value superiority. Now, he finds that diversity _is_ superior.

*

Khan returns to his crew after all crates have been checked. They work on their plans for the landing and the distribution of goods, they appoint the people who would be part of the initial personnel of the research facility, and they discuss any primary political decisions before they can instate a more permanent system. They work until well into the night. None of them feel particularly pressured, but instead motivated, Khan is relieved to note.

At one point, Kirk joins them in one of the sleeping quarters that they have converted into an impromptu conference room.

“Good evening,” he greets the assembled colonists, smiling tiredly. “We’ll be arriving at the colony in about four hours. If any of you want to catch some sleep, now would be the time.” He grins at the incredulous looks he’s getting. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”  
He searches Khan’s eyes. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course, Captain.” He stands and walks over to the door. His people return to their discussion, immediately.  
“What can I do for you?”

Kirk smiles, but hesitates to give his answer. “I was thinking, since the Enterprise isn’t supposed to inspect the colony… Why should we?” he adds, huffing. “There’s nothing there yet to inspect.”

“James,” Khan interrupts him, “perhaps the Enterprise has enough time for me to show you my house?” It is pretty much a shot in the dark, Khan has to admit, but Spock’s words about Kirk missing him are still ringing in his ears, and he hopes that the captain is thinking the same thing that he is. That, ideally, they both need that last moment before the Enterprise leaves for five years.

Kirk’s eyes light up. “Yeah, actually. That would be great.” He grins. “Can’t leave you there without knowing what it’ll be like, right?”

Khan returns the smile. “Indeed.”

“Alright,” Kirk says. “Go back to your people, and I’ll see you in four hours.”

*

Kirk and Khan materialise next to each other on a hill in front of the house that Kirk has only seen a barebones sketch of and that offers an amazing view of the valley where they can see more houses and the much larger research facility.

Kirk looks around. “Wow. Nice spot.”

Khan seems pleased. “Thank you. I have plans for this hillside.”

Crates are being beamed down as they stand there, piling up in front of the house.

“You want me to help you unpack?” Kirk asks, pointing at the crates and boxes.

Khan smiles slightly and shakes his head. “James, you have half an hour before you depart. Let me show you the house.”

Kirk nods, gratefully. He’d rather spend the time with his full attention on his friend, too. “Lead the way.”

It is a small house, but it takes most of their half hour for Khan to explain what plans he has for every room. And he has many plans. Especially for the still completely empty and barn-like building behind the house.

Curiosity and possibility, Kirk thinks, bring out the best in people.

 

When their short time is nearly up, they once more stand outside next to each other and look down the hill.

“Vineyard, yeah?” Kirk asks.

Khan grins. “It is the right place for one.”

Kirk snickers. “That it is. I look forward to tasting some results when I get back.”

Khan is about to reply to that when...

_“Enterprise to Captain Kirk.”_

Both their smiles dampen.

“Kirk here.”

_“We are ready to beam you back, sir.”_

“Yeah, just gimme a minute. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

Kirk sighs and turns to Khan. “Five years isn’t all that long.” Khan refuses to comment on that, so Kirk continues. “Make the best of it?”

Khan nods. “You, too, James. You have quite the adventure ahead of you.”

Kirk grins. Yeah. He is really looking forward to that, but leaving someone behind kind of sucks.

“Be safe,” Khan adds.

Kirk nods. “Keep in contact.”

“Of course.”

Shit. Kirk really wants to hug the man, but he doesn’t think he has it in him, just now, and it doesn’t look like Khan does, either. Eventually, he just nods, once and firmly.  
“Right. Be the best you can be,” he says, encouragingly, activating his communicator.

“Yes, James,” Khan says, meaning the word in every sense.

“Kirk to Enterprise. Beam me up.”

Kirk dissolves, and Khan… Khan has a life to lead.

 


	6. Dying Ember

**_~ One year into the mission_ **

Khan peeks through the window when he can see the ambassador walk outside among the vines from the corner of his eyes, grins slightly and returns to completing his exam. It’s not his first-year exams of Starfleet Academy – he has finished those two weeks ago – but the additional medical training he has chosen to add to his curriculum.

It takes him another two hours to write the essay part, and at some point, he can hear the ambassador enter the house, but he pays it no mind and focuses on the task at hand.

By the time he has finished writing and sent his work to the examiners, the results of the rest of the exam are already waiting for him. He takes note of them, satisfied, and turns off the terminal to greet his guest who is quietly sitting in the living room with a steaming cup of tea, reading what appears to be a list of Khan’s possible courses for the next semester.

The ambassador stands. “Good afternoon, Mister Singh.”

Khan nods in greeting. “Ambassador.”

“The examination went well, I expect?”

Khan can’t hold back a self-satisfied grin. “Naturally. I have yet to receive the evaluation of the essay, however.”

“Which you will have excelled in, as well, I’m sure.”

Khan smirks a bit. “I am confident,” he says and turns to pour himself some of the tea that the ambassador has left in the pot for him and then joins him on the sofa.  
“You’ve had a chance to review my options next year?”

“Indeed,” the ambassador confirms. “An interesting choice.”

“Not particularly. After having worked at Section 31, mastering the advanced engineering courses was... a walk in the park.” He has to smile again, as he does more often, these days – and particularly when he realises that he has picked up yet another habit from James. One of his colourful metaphors (as the ambassador calls them), this time. “I have found basic Ethics and Psychology to be helpful and... soothing; further deepening those studies seemed the logical choice.” He raises a good-humoured eyebrow at the ambassador who promptly returns it with one of his own.

“As you must have guessed, I of course approve of your choice. In addition, there have been some voices within Starfleet suggesting that – particularly for the long exploratory missions – it would not go amiss to have a counsellor on board.” He sends Khan a badly concealed prompting look.

Khan just sips his tea. “I am sure I have no idea what you are insinuating.”

“Of course not, my boy,” the ambassador replies insincerely, and Khan thinks that whoever said that Vulcans do not lie must have been the worst of them all. “I am merely pointing out that there is a demand for your qualifications, once you have finished your training.”

Khan nods. Finishing the mandatory Starfleet training is not something he worries about. In fact, given his extraordinary receptivity, he sees no reason to not finish it within another year. It’s the fields that he has only ever studied in relation to warfare that he needs to focus on. Ethics, Psychology and Medicine, as well as Anthropology, Diplomacy, Xenology.  
He stares into the dark amber of his tea and wonders if his studies will ever be enough to make Starfleet believe that he is capable of acting out of empathy. People finding Doctor Stadi’s findings valid and actually believing them are two entirely different things, he knows.

The ambassador’s playful expression softens. “They have four more years to grow accustomed to you,” he notes.

Khan blinks and looks up from his tea. “Do you believe it will be enough? In all honesty?”

“Khan...” the ambassador starts, “... not only have I observed your progress, your studies, your work within the Moonraker research facility,” he nods towards the window, “your agricultural project and your overall stability and growth, I have also very closely watched the Federation and their agenda. As ambassador, I have contacts in many places – at the Academy and at the Federation courts – and your instructors are very pleased with your potential. The Academy is... interested. This will reflect positively on how the courts perceive you.”

Khan nods, though he appears sceptical. “Just because I fulfil all their demands and conditions that doesn’t mean that they will allow me aboard their flagship.”

The ambassador lays a calming hand on Khan’s shoulder. “We will just have to make use of those four years, as well, then.”

Khan returns the look. This time, the sincerity is obvious in the unusually expressive Vulcan’s face.

“And as I have said,” the ambassador concludes, standing, “I have contacts in many places.”

Khan smiles. Vulcans do always make a convincing argument.

“Now, I believe a harvest is impending? I would welcome an introduction to your elaborate findings on your vine. The crop looks quite promising.”

Khan indulgingly stands and accompanies the ambassador outside into the warm early autumn sun. “It is only the first year, but with the accelerator we have used to grow the vine, the results do look promising. Small, but promising.”

The ambassador trots next to him with his hands behind his back, looking content. “Just imagine how promising they will look in another four years,” he says, benignly and walks between two rows of vines, looking at the grapes.

Khan remains standing for a moment longer. He begins to truly cherish this man and his insight.

 

They walk for a while, Khan explaining the types of grapes he has decided on and both of them eating berries, every now and again. And, since they are already inspecting the fruit as it is, Khan decides to scan the stage of maturity.

“Perhaps two more days, it would seem,” Khan says.

“The village is anticipating the great event,” the ambassador says, cheerfully, and Khan is silently grateful for the use of _’village’_ instead of colony. Colony is a respectful enough word, but village sounds like home.

“I was surprised to hear that even the research facility will be closed for that day.” Khan truly had been surprised. He had believed his little project to garner no more than a raised eyebrow or two, but in their journey to rediscover who they are, his family has been growing into a strong community, eagerly sharing whatever joys they have found for themselves.  
He grins a bit at the image of what the harvest will be like. “We have all decided to put our trust into the traditional methods to trod grapes. Winona in particular is looking forward to that.” He considers that. “Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that she was the most vocal about it. We are all looking forward to it.”

“It will be my honour to participate in the festivities.”

“And our honour to have you.”

They walk some more.

The ambassador is absently tasting another berry. “Your Psychology professor tells me he would like to integrate you into the curriculum more.”

Khan’s steps falter. “He has informed me of this, yes,” he manages to reply after a moment. “Doctor Stadi and I are not sure yet if that is a good idea.”

“You do not believe you are ready to serve as a study subject in person.” It is not a question, and he certainly sounds like he agrees.

“I can easily see myself tutoring students, but there would be questions for me to answer, and while the students would undoubtedly profit from them, I don’t believe I am at a point where I can discuss criminal insanity with the required academic distance.”

The ambassador walks a few more steps, unconcerned. “I have also heard that you would have been allowed back on Earth for certain lectures...”

“I refused,” Khan answers, immediately. “I wish to stay here, though I have agreed to actively participate in the lecture courses the professor was particularly interested in, as long as my own past is not the chosen topic.”

“As I understand it, your past is discussed more in relation to DNA engineering and medicine in general, rather than psychology.”

Khan’s posture straightens, considerably, and he breathes out, visibly relieved. “It is, yes. That approach is more tangible, and I am nearly finished with my thesis for my medical training and should be able to complete it during the semester break.” It seemed the best course of action to choose the topic that he has personal experience with. He not only understands the procedures, he understands the effects.

The ambassador appears amused. “So you will be a medical professional before you are a Starfleet officer. A healer.”

Khan doesn’t say that he has his doubts that he will ever be awarded a rank within Starfleet. It doesn’t matter much to him; he would be just as content working for them as with them.

“Have you consulted with Doctor McCoy during your research?” the ambassador continues.

“Yes, naturally. He was happy to help and interested in my approach and findings.”

They come to a stop when they realise that they’ve reached the foot of the hill and the end of the rows of vine.

Khan clears his throat. “Have you come to a decision as to how long you intend to stay on Moonraker?”

The ambassador faces him. “I believe that New Vulcan is progressing nicely and can get by without me for the time being. The projects I am currently involved in, here, would be a pity to abandon. I am of course speaking of the research at the facility.”

“Of course.” Khan smiles.

The ambassador studies him, intently; the smile in particular. “You and your family have come a long way in a short time; it is a pleasure and a privilege to observe.”

Khan doesn’t have an answer to that.

“Well, then, my boy. I will be seeing you for the traditional stomping of grapes.”

Khan chuckles. “You might want to consider wearing something that does not take badly to purple stains.”

The ambassador bids him goodbye and walks unhurriedly along the path back into the centre of the village.

Khan watches him leave and smiles softly, until a message interrupts his pleasant lack of serious thoughts. He has, as expected, excelled in his essay.

He returns to his house, as Doctor Stadi will be joining him in a little while for his counselling session.

***

**_~ Two and a half years into the mission_ **

The incessant bleeping of his bedside comm wakes Kirk from an easy rest. He groans and turns to his side to look at the ID and... smiles.

They’ve been too far away from Federation space for immediate visual communication for a while, and it has been his intention to make use of the absolutely awesome relay station of the planet they are currently orbiting, but it appears that his remote friend has discovered the connection, too.

He accepts the call and is immediately greeted by a wide smile and glowing eyes.  
Wow. He blinks and props himself up on one elbow. Khan’s smile dims, immediately when he realises that he’s disturbed Kirk’s sleep, but Kirk is pretty sure that he’s never seen the man smile like that.  
“Hey, what’s up?”

“I have woken you.” Khan is contrite, but clearly too excited to be truly apologetic.

Kirk grins. “I was going to call you, soon, anyway. The communication technology of the planet we’ve been negotiating with is sensational. You’ll love the specs.”  
He doesn’t get up or even sit. This is not the first sleepy call they’re having.

Khan’s smile returns, and Kirk finally gets it.

“Oh, my god,” Kirk gasps and rolls onto his stomach to prop himself up on both elbows and rob closer to the terminal. “The baby?”

Khan beams at him. “The very first colony baby, James.” He moves slightly to the side, looking behind himself, and Kirk can see that Khan is apparently in a hospital room, the mother and the new baby in a bed with the father next to it.

Now it’s Kirk’s turn to beam at the screen. He lifts one hand to wave at the camera, and the parents wave back (though he must be on a pretty small screen, if he remembers the terminal design of the medical facility on Moonraker correctly).

Khan returns his attention to Kirk, but makes sure that the view of the young family is not obstructed.  
“It’s a boy.”

Kirk grins. “And he won’t be alone for long, will he?”

“No. Two more births are expected in the next two months alone.”

Kirk actually feels his eyes sting and rubs at them. “Shit, man, this is great.”

Khan smirks. “His name is Leonard.”

Kirk freezes, then bursts out laughing. “I will never, ever hear the end of this,” he says, giggling.

“Leonard Khan Nyström-Valdez.”

Kirk’s smile softens. “Congratulations.”

Khan shifts. “He’s not _my_ baby.”

“He is a bit. He wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Or you.”

Kirk smiles some more, then smirks. “We done good.”

They just look at each other contently, before Khan remembers that he has woken his friend.

“I should let you rest.”

Kirk lets himself fall back on his bed, grunting. “Are you crazy? I can’t sleep now, and since you woke me, it’s up to you to entertain me.”

Khan chuckles. “I will take our discussion to another room, then, and leave the young family their peace.” He moves out of the image and Kirk looks at the three remaining people smiling at him (not the baby, of course – he is only squirming), until the screen shows Khan in a different room.

“So...” Kirk begins. “Were you delivering the baby?”

Khan smirks at him. “I am a certified medical professional; I can deliver a baby.”

Kirk chuckles. “Yeah. No doubt.”

They’re quiet, again. But that is nothing unusual. They often are quiet during their calls. It’s the company they appreciate.

Kirk, unsurprisingly, breaks the silence, first. “Changed your mind, yet?”

Khan just huffs, amused and shakes his head. “Leaving aside the fact that I have every intention of joining you on your next mission once it commences...”

“We _can_ accommodate kids on board, you know,” Kirk interrupts.

“I know,” Khan confirms, “but as _you_ know, I would not want to burden an innocent child with my legacy.”

Kirk considers that, lying on his back and staring at his ceiling. Then he turns his head and smirks, again. “One day, even you will have to admit that you have an _awesome_ legacy to pass on.”

Khan, other than Kirk expects, doesn’t respond to the honest but humorous tone, but instead nods, seriously.  
“ _’Awesome’_ in every etymological sense of the word, I’m sure.”

Kirk’s smirk melts into a contemplative but in no way negative expression. “Okay, I’ll give you that.”  
Soon, the light in his eyes is back. “You have time. There’s no rush.”

“There is not,” Khan agrees, though he doesn’t appear to think that time will change his opinion on the matter.

 

They talk for a while longer; however, despite his best intentions, Kirk eventually falls asleep, but when his alarm goes off, Khan is still there, smiling an amused benign smile.

“Good morning, James.”

Kirk groans. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“I have been reading,” Khan says, unconcerned and holds up the reader in his hand. “I have decided that I have finally had enough of you flinging references of that infernal secret agent at me that I do not understand.”

Kirk, only half awake, giggles into his pillow. “Make sure you get to the movies, next.”

Khan raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “I _have_ watched the one Doctor McCoy has named our colony after.” He shakes his head, incredulously amused. “It was... immeasurably ridiculous.”

Kirk snickers some more. “Yeah, that one is even more silly than most, but still.” He fakes a serious expression and nods, sagely. “You should watch them all. They are now part of your colony’s heritage.”

Khan chuckles and holds up his reader, again. “If you were standing right here, and this was a book made of paper and not metals and plastic, I do believe I would have thrown it at you, now.”

Kirk dissolves into another set of (manly) giggles. “Oh, come on. You know you like it.”

Khan smiles. “I would have to agree that the book is... relaxingly uncomplex.”

“And fun.”

Khan sighs, long-sufferingly. “Yes.”

Kirk grins.

“Get to work, James.”

“Yes, sir.”

*

It is an accordingly sleepy Kirk who joins his senior staff meeting.

McCoy gives him the side-eye. “You look like you got hit by a bull,” he says, diplomatically.

Kirk sits at the head of the table and raises an eyebrow at him. “I had to take an urgent call from Moonraker that could not be postponed,” he replies in his captainly voice. This gets him the attention he wanted, and he grins.  
“You’ll all be happy to hear that Leonard Khan Nyström-Valdez was born six hours ago and is a very healthy and perfectly normal baby boy.” He sends McCoy an expectant look.

McCoy, uncharacteristically, has absolutely nothing to say. He just sits there, staring at Kirk wide-eyed.

Kirk grins and shows an image of the parents with the baby on the large screen. “I thought we’d start out this meeting with the pleasant news, before we go back to negotiating with fussy aliens.”

“That is good news,” Chekov agrees. “There will be more children?”

“And soon,” Kirk confirms.

McCoy, who has finally found his voice again, points an accusing finger at Kirk. “Are you messing with me?”

Kirk would have loved to mess with him a bit, but McCoy looks so overwhelmed with amazement that he can’t bring himself to and just smiles.  
“I’m not. You should find little Leonard’s medical file in your database, by now.” Then he remembers something.  
“Oh, right, and Mister Sulu, the new type of vine is developing nicely. Mister Singh has sent some baby pictures of that for you, too.”

This has everyone snicker – with the exception of Spock, of course, who looks merely content – and Kirk decides that he has delayed the inevitable serious business for long enough.

“Thank you, Captain,” Sulu says, grinning.

“Right, then,” straightens in his seat. “What are we going to do about those fastidious aliens with the awesome antenna?”

***

**_~ Four years and nine months into the mission_ **

Winona Kirk is in Khan’s living room, watching the end of the Psychology lecture that is being transmitted live. Khan has just finished his part where he answered questions and offered his view via a large screen and is now merely listening to the conclusion.

Winona is nearly in tears. Khan is only in the next room, but she has watched him speak, has watched the cadets’ reaction and wanted nothing more than to tell him that he was being an _idiot_! And yet she has to wait for the lesson to finish.

Somewhere out there, she knows, Jim has probably been watching this, too. She wonders if he has reacted as strongly as she has and wishes he was here, already, and not only after the three months left of his mission.

It is Doctor Stadi’s turn to speak, now, and, as Winona has suspected, she speaks of Khan as the victim of a traumatising event, not the one causing it, and there are many cadets nodding, silently.

 

When finally the lecture ends, she waits for Khan to join her.  
It takes quite a while, unsurprisingly, and when he does exit the room, still wearing his cadet’s uniform, Winona sits there, holding a framed picture in her hand of Khan with the colony’s children in the vineyard during the last harvest.

She clears her throat when she sees his tentative expression. “You know, I’m sure the ambassador will tell you tomorrow that Vulcan meditation techniques are meant to govern emotions, not suppress them.”

Khan sighs, frustrated. “Why doesn’t anyone understand that those feelings are not mine to feel?”

Winona – very much a Kirk – has an answer to that on the tip of her tongue, but she thinks it the better course of action to just let him continue. “Explain it to me,” she forces herself to say, calmly.

Khan steps closer and sits, facing her and leans forward imploringly. “How can I be entitled to feel pain and grief for things that _I_ have done and caused in others? Even feeling guilt would be diminishing their deaths. My guilt is worth nothing in the face of their loss, just as my pain and grief are a mere mockery of the pain and grief of the bereaved!”

Winona has to brush away stinging tears and sniffs, once. “Nobody is _entitled_ to feelings. They just are. And if you never allow yourself to fully feel them, if you do not face them, you will never be able to grow stronger with them.”

Khan’s eyes are glistening, as well; his face is a mask of pain. “What gives me the right to grow at all, much less stronger? I do not deserve it.”

Winona doesn’t point out that this doesn’t make him sound like he is someone stable enough to join a five-year exploratory mission in space, but, once again, she doesn’t voice her thoughts. In the state the man is in, he would just agree with her and dismiss his goal to join Starfleet.  
She changes her approach completely and holds up the photograph. “Those kids adore you.”

Khan, startled by the apparent change of topic, blinks. “They don’t know any better.”

“Yeah, they do. They judge you on who they know you are, not on who you have been made to be in the past.” Khan wants to reply, but she doesn’t let him.  
“Are they undeserving of your affection?” she asks, firmly.

Khan’s eyes widen. “Of course not!”

“For them to have your affection, you need to allow it, first.”

Khan feels like he’s been doused in ice water.

“Your people, the children, Adrienne Stadi, Ambassador Spock... even me and Jim and his crew... after all we’ve done for you and with you, we deserve everything from you, don’t we?”

Khan just stares at her. He can feel his heart beat in his throat at the truth of her words.

Eventually, she smirks ruefully. “I’m a mother. I do emotional blackmail well.”

The string that has held Khan’s body taut snaps, and he breathes out a small laugh.

“But my point still stands. If you don’t face the emotions that cause you pain, you will never feel the ones that make you and others happy to the extent that I know you are capable.” When she doesn’t receive an answer, she adds, “Even the students agreed with that, just now. They all believe in you, and they don’t even know you. They just know your records.”

“I... do not know if I can allow these feelings, Winona. They are hard enough to control...”

“But you don’t control them, Khan. You ignore them. You can’t control what you don’t know.”

He has to agree that she has a point. He only allows himself to catalogue the very surface of this particular set of emotions, but he also knows that feeling anything strongly always pushes the guilt forward, reminding him that he should not be happy while others are dead because of him. This, in return, drags the pain and the grief with it... In the end, he never dares to feel as much as he could. Winona is right.  
“What do you suggest?” he asks, in the hopes that the impression he is getting from her really means that she has a suggestion.

“I think that the therapy with both Adrienne and Spock is very useful to you, but, perhaps... you need a Kirk to show you that you can also yell and cry and curse at the fucking injustice of life. You didn’t choose to be a genetic experiment.”

Khan smiles a bit at her words. Still... “But I was allowed to live.”

Winona stares at him, hard. “Jim, his brother and I didn’t choose to survive and having to live without their father. Are we not allowed to be hurt and angry at George’s death, simply because we were allowed to live?”

“God, Winona, that’s not what I meant...”

“No, but it’s what you said. This is what I hear when you say you aren’t allowed to feel guilt and grief. That’s what those cadets heard, and it’s what Adrienne heard. I’m sure Jim will rip you a new one when he gets here, too.”  
She smirks a bit to make clear that Jim wouldn’t truly be angry at Khan. Not for this.

Khan feels the familiar burn rise from his stomach, feels it choke him. “I don’t know what will happen if I allow it,” he says, quietly, as if afraid that the words might shove an arm and hand down his throat and rip the feelings from his chest.

“You don’t owe it to anyone but yourself,” Winona says, consciously contradicting her earlier words that were really only meant to get his attention. “You owe it to the little boy who could have been amazing, and instead was made into a killer.”

Khan very much looks like a little boy, just now. Then, perhaps, he should be reached like one.

“Right,” Winona says, decisively. “It’s summer solstice on this hemisphere, today, isn’t it?” It’s not a question; she knows the answer, but she wants him to participate.

“It is...” he answers, hesitantly.

Winona stands. “Just the right time for a bonfire, right?”

Khan blinks and looks up to her.

“I know you still have the clothes little Spock... _arrested_ you in.” She hopes this universe’s Spock will never know what she calls him in his absence.

Khan takes her meaning, and it immediately terrifies him. “It’s my memorial. I need it. I need it to...”

“To remind you of something you couldn’t possibly forget?” she returns, raising an eyebrow. Her hard expression softens after only a second. “Khan, you don’t have it as a memorial. You let it _cling_ to you like a disease. You need to let go of that ghost.”  
She gently frames his cheek with one hand.  
“And perhaps there is a ghost that... I should let go of, too, while we’re at it,” she admits, ruefully. “I won’t let you do this on your own.”  
With that, she walks outside, presumably to get that fire going.

Khan wonders if he has imagined the soft emphasis on the _’you’_ in her last sentence, and he hurts a bit for her and her two boys, as well.  
Finally, after long minutes of being lost in his thoughts, he goes to change out of his uniform.

 

When he gets outside, holding the dark bundle of trousers, Starfleet shirt and coat in his arms, the sun has set, and the fire is burning high with Winona sitting on the ground and leaning against a boulder.

She hugs her knees and looks up to him when he appears at her side.  
“You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, you know.” Apparently, she has used the time to think about what would be the best for both of them. And, though she is certain that it would be right, it might also be wrong if it’s not the right time...

Khan remains standing and looks at the clothes he’s holding. “I am ready.”

She keeps looking at him.

“I am afraid.”

She smiles at him and holds out a hand. “You don’t have to do it, right away, come and sit down.”

He does as he’s asked and puts the bundle next to him on the ground, feeling its weight on his soul like a constant gravitational pull.

They sit next to each other, both having their knees against their bodies to shield them against the world, and gaze into the breathing flames until it has gone completely dark around them.  
Every now and again, Winona or Khan stand to throw in more wood, making the fire flash and glow and hiss as it licks along the logs.

It feels like hours before Winona speaks.

“I left the planet when Jim was little,” she says. “Went right back to the ‘Fleet because I couldn’t stand earth without George... couldn’t stand Jim looking more like his father every day.”

Khan doesn’t speak, doesn’t judge. He understands.

“I thought he was well taken care of, you know. And he was. Food, clothes, school. He had all that, so why would he need me there.”

They are quiet again for a long time, and Khan looks at her face in the firelight. Sees the pain etched into her features.

“I didn’t think I had to interfere when his brother ran away. He was old enough, I thought. And even when Jim destroyed his father’s car, almost killing himself in the process, it never occurred to me that he might need me. I just thought it would be best for him to get off the planet for a while, too...”  
Now, the tears come. “And I sent him to Tarsus IV. He was thirteen. Only thirteen.”

Khan knows of Tarsus IV. Knows of the famine, knows of Governor Kodos and his crimes... He wants to comfort Winona, but all he can think is that, not too long ago, he was thinking in much the same way as that despicable Governor. He returns to staring into the flames, helplessly unable to process her pain in addition to his own.  
“We... were raised to believe in eugenic principles,” he forces out because he can no longer contain the words burning his insides like acid. “I don’t remember much of my childhood prior to the... treatment, but afterwards, they were no longer teachings of a principle... it was... a _desire_ ,” he all but spits out the word. “A hunger to achieve a position in the world that we were _created_ for. Only my people counted. Due to that programming, even our creators eventually lost importance. Humans were either marginally useful or expendable.” He never notices his own tears flowing.  
“But they are not! Winona! They are not!” he wails. “And we never knew.”

She cries with him, but doesn’t reach out to him, yet.

“When I was on the Vengeance... It was like the ship was my body, because it was the only way to contain my pain, my anger and betrayal. _I_ was the ship, and I needed to stop it hurting.” His voice drifts off and grows quieter. “So I killed it and...” his voice breaks, “... took as many with me as I could.” 

He tries to remember, tries to remember the things that matter, now, the things that he had believed to do anything to preserve in his memory. And he has to realise that what he has been preserving is not the memory of the lives that were lost that day, because his former self never took enough notice for him to remember.

He sobs, frustrated. “There must have been bodies, screams and sirens! There _must_ have been!” He covers his face with his hands, howling out his pain. 

Vaguely, he is aware of arms surrounding him, but they don’t help him to _remember_!

“What use...” he growls, slowly looking into the burning fire that matches his insides, “... is a perfect design with the perfect memory...” he stands and grabs the bundle that still lies innocently next to him, “if it makes you ignore _what is truly important_?!” he yells the last words and throws the clothes into the flames with all the pain that he feels.

He only manages to remain standing for a few seconds in blind shock, before he crumbles and cries and sobs.

Winona catches him when he falls and directs his head to cradle it in her lap, running gentle fingers through his hair. She kisses his sweaty temple.  
“But _you_ do. You know what’s important,” she whispers. “You have so much to give, darling. You’ve done so well for yourself and your people.”  
She keeps whispering into his temple, while petting his hair and crying with him. Perhaps like she should have done with two other little boys...

Khan cries for a long time before sleep mercifully takes him. 

Even then, Winona doesn’t stop her caresses. She knows that Jim has long since forgiven her, but she can’t stop giving what a little voice inside her tells her she should have given to someone else.  
This time, she allows herself to listen to that voice, she acknowledges her pain, accepts her emotional inability to do things differently all those years ago.

“Coulda woulda shoulda...” she whispers at the flames and laughs a bit when she imagines she can hear George’s chuckle. “Meaningless words. Just do the right thing _now_.”  
And she knows that she is.

Eventually, her head lolls back against the boulder and she falls asleep, as well.

*

The early morning sunlight wakes them both nearly at the same time, and they sit, feeling somehow... lighter. Even if just a little. But they have both come to appreciate the little steps along their way.

Khan is somewhat embarrassed at having slept with his head on her lap, but he can’t bring himself to apologise, so he just smiles at her, gratefully.

She returns the smile and brushes a strand of hair from his forehead.

He grins a bit. “You’re not only good at emotional blackmail...”

Winona laughs and smacks his arm, making him laugh with her.  
“No more lip from you, young man, or I’ll spank you.”

They stay where they are, pulling their blankets a bit closer around them and looking at the remaining, glowing embers. This is a good emotional place, they’re at, they both decide.

After a while, soft steps on the grass interrupt their musings, and the ambassador silently approaches them to sit on a boulder. 

“Good morning. I apologise for interrupting you both, this early, but I was somewhat alarmed after your words at the Academy, yesterday, and I was concerned that perhaps my methods to support your emotions might have done more harm than good.”

Khan waves him off, immediately. “Not at all, no. They were absolutely essential.”

Winona nods in agreement.

Khan briefly looks at her to find the words to explain what he is thinking, then his lip quirks. “Both you and Doctor Stadi have been immeasurably helpful for me to lead a good life,” he assures the ambassador. “However, I’m afraid you could only help me with the emotions that I allowed, the ones I was consciously aware of.” He sends his mentor an amused look (tinged with a hint of commiseration, perhaps).  
“Sometimes, a... Kirk is needed to coax out the ones we are unaware of.”

The ambassador doesn’t outright laugh, but there is definitely a smile. “I see. It has been a turbulent night for both of you, then.”

Winona grins. “But a good one. I think we’re both feeling better today.”

Khan hesitates – still uncomfortable with allowing conscious acceptance of happiness – but then he nods, as well.

Winona beams at him.

“If you would allow me,” the ambassador adds, “to perform a meld; it has occurred to me yesterday that you have hardly any memories of the child you once were, and that it might help you base your identity on something prior to what was done to you.”

Khan is clearly apprehensive, but he also trusts the ambassador, so he nods, again.

“You have my word that I will not unlock memories you are not ready to face.”

Winona shifts back a bit to give them more room and has to admit that she’s curious. She has never seen this done, before.  
She watches as the ambassador lays his fingers on the side of Khan’s face, murmuring words; then both their eyes close, though she can see them move rapidly behind the lids.

 

It takes quite some time before they open their eyes – Khan with a gasp – and sever the connection.

Khan stares at the ambassador in amazement.

The ambassador merely looks like he has found what he has expected.  
“That child has been subjected to rather radical teachings,” he remarks, “but that was neither his choice nor his doing. You have every right to feel grief for the future that he was deprived of, as you have every right to pursue it, now.”

Winona smiles, her eyes are once more glistening, but no tears fall.

The ambassador briefly catches her eyes, then returns his attention to Khan. “I do believe you will be well tended to on board the Enterprise, dear boy,” he says, making Winona giggle at the insinuation, and stands.  
“I have brought fresh oranges that arrived two days ago from earth,” he says, pointing at the bag he has with him. “They would make a satisfactory meal,” he states. “And I believe you could both use some tea to warm you up after the cold night.”  
With that, he takes his bag and walks towards the house.

Winona rubs Khan’s shoulder. “It’ll all be fine. You’ll see,” she says, joins the ambassador to make breakfast and leaves Khan to his thoughts.

Khan remains seated and watches the last of the embers die slowly. He wonders if the ambassador knows something he doesn’t when he speaks of the Enterprise. As of now, Khan hasn’t heard of a possible field commission...  
He stops the thought and smiles, ruefully, remembering James’ calling the ambassador a _’meddling old bastard’_ (fondly, of course).

As he stares at the coal, he suddenly sees something lying there and reaches for it. It’s just a button, and he’s not sure if it’s from the trousers he’s burned or the coat. He doesn’t remember whether or not the coat even had buttons...

He holds it in the palm of his hand, sees it lying there, so utterly harmless, and wonders how he could ever have accredited the clothes with so much meaning. It seems so silly, now.

After another few minutes, he slowly shakes his head. Enough is enough, he decides and stands, walking slowly towards the closest row of vines.  
He crouches down and digs into the soil with his hands, making sure that he goes deep enough to reach the root of the plant. Then he pushes the button between two strong roots, covers the hole he has dug and presses down the soil.

Perhaps this is silly, too, making the future literally grow on top of the past, but... this silliness seems healthier.

He pats the soil fondly in parting and stands. One step at a time. He has always liked oranges.

***

**_~ Five years_ **

It’s almost time for the harvest, and Khan is scanning (and eating) grapes when he hears it...

He hasn’t heard the sound of someone de- or rematerialising in years, but he would recognise it anywhere and anytime. His scanner drops from numb fingers, and he and runs uphill, and... James is there. Carrying a duffel bag and a wide grin.

And, this time, nothing keeps them from the laughter and the heart-felt, tight hug that was five years in the making.

 


	7. Settlement

After dinner, Khan sits in front of his house in a basket chair. It’s quiet and warm, and he feels utterly relaxed.

“Well, then, Mister Singh,” Kirk says, stepping outside, holding two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other. “I’ve been waiting for five years for this.”

Khan chuckles. “I assure you it was worth the wait.”

Kirk grins, takes a seat and studies the label on the bottle. There is a stylised but classic image of several figures on it. He thinks he can recognise the original picture.  
“Is that you and the kids in the vineyard?”

Khan nods. “Yes. We thought it… fitting.”

Kirk doesn’t reply, but he smiles and opens the bottle, pouring them each a glass.

They don’t clink the glasses or say a toast; the wine has all the meaning it could for them. Kirk takes a sip and leans back in his seat, sighing contently.

“Definitely worth the wait,” he says, his eyes on the slowly disappearing sun.

Khan doesn’t have to reply, either. They just sit and drink, enjoying their personal silence.

Of course, Kirk can only take so much silence.  
“You didn’t want to go to Earth for the hearing with my mom, Stadi and the ambassador?”

Khan slowly shakes his head, his eyes following a small moth flying by in the evening light. “There was no need.” Then he turns his head and looks at Kirk with a small grin. “And I didn’t want to risk missing the harvest.”

Kirk grins back. “I can understand that.” He breathes deeply. “They’ll probably make it back in time, though.”

Khan knows that, as he knew it when he was asked if he would like to join them. “It was… as good an excuse as any,” he admits, pouring himself another glass and refilling Kirk’s.

Kirk hesitates. Eventually, he has to say what’s on his mind, anyway. He also suspects that Khan is waiting for it.  
“Look… I don’t want to pry or… dunno… pressure you, but…”

“Your mother talked to you,” Khan says. Winona hasn’t told him, but she didn’t have to.

Kirk releases the breath he’s been holding. “Yeah.”

Khan briefly considers what it is that Kirk truly wants to know. “Doctor Stadi will say at the hearing that there has been some… emotional growth or development since I spoke at the Academy a few months ago.”

Kirk tilts his head that is still leaning against his chair towards Khan. “But you’re not ready to put it into words in front of a bunch of officials.”

Khan huffs. “I hardly scratched the surface of what that… emotional potential even is. There are no words to speak, yet.”

Kirk nods, absently. “Sorry about her, by the way.”

Khan raises an amused eyebrow at Kirk.

“My mom can be a bit… overwhelming when she puts her mind to it.”

“Like you?”

Kirk snickers into his wine. “Yeah, I’ll give you that.”

Khan relaxes again, in spite of the topic (and possibly because of the wine). “It was necessary. I hadn’t realised what I was doing, and I hid it too well for anyone else to pick it up.”  
He purses his lips. “Though perhaps the timing wasn’t the best.”

Kirk waves off his concerns. “If they’re going to refuse your commission, it won’t be because of that. And they all heard you speaking to those students, so they already knew that you were suppressing emotions. We all have our baggage, Khan. At least they can be sure that you’re dealing with it.” He grins at him. “And they’d better not refuse your commission. I requested you, personally.”

Khan smiles. “And your crew would not object?”

“Naw,” Kirk says, and a giggle escapes. “They were following updates from the colony like chapters of a novel.” He grins. “There was even gossip about you guys.”  
He relaxes into his seat some more, enjoying the picturesque scenery. “You sure you want to give this up for five years?”

“Everything would be well taken care of.”

Kirk nods. “I’m sure it will be.”  
They’re silent for a bit longer, sipping their wine.  
“You were really serious with what you said at the Academy, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

Khan watches the sun finally disappear. “I… still believe that it is not fair that I should be allowed to feel anything, much less something that enables me to grow, while others have died or lost loved ones because of my actions.”

Kirk doesn’t answer. He can’t exactly disagree with that, and he wants to hear how Khan finishes the thought.

“I suppose, however… that my dismissal of emotions that are already there would not change the past.”

“No,” Kirk agrees, calmly.

“And, as your mother has reminded me, the people who are dear to me deserve everything I can give, not merely a shadow of it.”

Kirk almost snorts into his wine. “Oh, no, she didn’t…”

Khan snickers. “She did retract that statement, later. But I cannot deny that it is still correct.”

Kirk rolls his eyes.

“James… refusing to acknowledge what you mean to me, after everything you have done to help me and my people, would be like spitting in the face of your friendship. And I cannot allow that.”

Kirk rubs his face. “God, Khan. It’s not…” He sighs. “I know that you’re my friend. Trust me, if I had issues with someone having a peculiar relationship with emotions, I wouldn’t be friends with a Vulcan.”

“Nevertheless, since I cannot change the past, I need to invest all I can into the present. Otherwise, what good does it that I have been given this chance, however undeserved it may have been?”

Kirk smiles sleepily. “Not gonna argue with you on that. You know me; I’m all for living in the present.”

“And you have always encouraged me to do the same.”

“Yeah?” 

Khan smirks mischievously. “Well, not everyone gets a second chance, and you know what they say.”

Kirk frowns, but already grinning a bit at Khan’s expression. “What?”

“You only live twice.”

Kirk almost spills what’s left of the wine in his glass as the explosive laughter shakes him. 

Khan chuckles with him.

Kirk grins and raises his almost-empty glass. “Well played,” he toasts and finishes his glass.  
“Damn. This is really good.”

Khan pours them more wine, emptying the bottle. “We’re very happy with the results, too.”

“It’s a good thing you’re in charge of this hillside and not me. I’d probably just drink all of it, myself.”

Khan swirls the red liquid in his glass, absently. “I don’t indulge very often.”

“Because of what the alcohol might shake loose?” Kirk guesses.

Khan considers that. “There is that, I suppose, but I tend to drink in company.” He turns his head to look at Kirk, smiling slightly. “And company reminds me of all the reasons why my life is a good one. No…” he adds after a moment. “The wine just feels very precious to me. Every bottle.” He huffs a bit. “I’m afraid I accredit a lot of symbolic meaning to inanimate objects, at times,” he grins ruefully.

“Hey, whatever you’re feeling, you’re feeling,” Kirk says, immediately. “This is your thing. Your idea. Your everything. You’ve grown the vines, tended to them. You do the harvesting the old fashioned and hands-on way, and you can watch everyone engage in it.” He shrugs. “It’s your baby and grows like your colony. It deserves some symbolic meaning.”

They sit quietly, finishing their wine.

When Kirk sees something large zip through the night sky, he perks up. “Is that a bird?”

Khan hums in agreement. “It is a mammal, however, probably more similar to bats than birds.”

“Big bat,” Kirk notes. He thinks it looks more like a falcon than anything, and when he can see the first one being joined by a second, flying in a peculiar sort of dance, he smiles.  
“You’ve never spoken much about the wildlife, here.”

“We’re studying it, but it’s not been a priority, so far. Though there are many agriculturalists and xeno-zoologists among the new colonists who have arrived in the last three years. The colony is still mostly a research colony, and we are far from self-sufficient, but we are headed in that direction. Unexpectedly, perhaps.”

“You didn’t expect anyone to join you, out here.”

Khan shakes his head. “I… had somehow envisioned this to be a… prison colony, if not in name then in practice.”

If Kirk is entirely truthful with himself, so did he. Sure, the colonists would have been able to live their lives peacefully and everything, but… He breathes deeply. This is so much better. Given enough time, this could actually be a flourishing world.

“The agriculturalists and zoologists ensure that the natural balance of our world is not jeopardised while at the same time allowing us to sustain ourselves on the natural resources to some degree.” He pauses. “We are taking this very seriously, and we would rather depend on import of comestible goods than destroy Moonraker.”

Kirk tenses minutely. “Make sure that you always ask for help in time when necessary.”

Khan looks at him, seriously. “Always, James.”

Neither has to mention Tarsus. They both know that they’re both thinking it.

Kirk clears his throat and changes the topic. “So… that thing we had for dinner. Was that local? It was meat, right?”

Khan grins a bit. “The grain isn’t local – though it isn’t from Earth, either – but the vegetables are from here, as is the meat.”

Kirk narrows his eyes. “Not sure I like that look on your face, mister.”

Khan chuckles. “It is nothing bad, I assure you, but the new arrivals always need a moment to get used to the fact that they have eaten the meat of an insect that is about the size of a large rat.”

Kirk laughs out loud. “They’re really good, though.”

“And high in protein, yes,” Khan agrees. “They live in the forests and are being preyed upon by our aviatic friends,” he points at the sky where there are now three of the bird-like bats (or bat-like birds). “We are keeping an eye on their population, since we don’t want to endanger the species, but they are naturally reproducing at a rate that allows them to fill their underground nesting places. If more are being hunted, they reproduce faster. It’s quite fascinating.”

“You’re not digging up their nests, though, are you?”

“No, of course not. The adults of the species surface at night in search for food.” He nods upwards. “As do they.”

“Anything larger on this planet?”

“There are some rather large oceanic life forms, but they are only large in comparison to the other local wildlife. I believe the largest animal we could find is a crab-like creature about the size of a dolphin.”

“No fishing, then?”

“Not much. There are some smaller ones that we do eat on occasion, but the oceanic life is less stable than the terran one. So we are mostly leaving it be.”

“Do the animals have names?”

“Some do. We’re probably just going to adopt what the children call them for the everyday language, aside from what the zoologists have named them.” He smirks a bit. “The children haven’t quite agreed, yet.”

“Is there a common consensus on the bat-bird?”

Khan chuckles. “The oldest children have been going through images and stories of Earth birds. And, apparently, they insist on calling it a dodo.”

Kirk laughs, again, utterly content. “Dodo it is.” Then he mock-frowns at Khan. “You’re not hunting the dodos, are you?”

“We are not. But there is a large moth-type insect that is naturally preyed upon that we are.”

“Moths are fine. Not dodos,” Kirk says and nods, sagely. When a huge yawn interrupts what he was going to say, he has to admit defeat.  
“I hate to say this, but I’m beat.”

Khan immediately reaches for the glasses and bottle. “Of course. Your room has been ready for weeks.”

Kirk smiles back, not moving for a moment. “Yeah, there was no way I wouldn’t come by, here, first thing.” He stands. “Though I will have to return to Earth for a bit at some point.”

“Moonraker will still be here for you when you are ready.” Khan holds out the hand holding the bottle towards the door, signalling Kirk to enter.

“It’s great to see you again,” Kirk says, before following the invitation.

*

Kirk wakes to the laughter of children through his open window and stretches.

He gets up and looks outside, smiling before he can see the reason for the commotion. When he does see them, he just remains by the window for a while longer. There are maybe eight children running between the rows of vines, clearly having fun, and just as clearly having been raised to be careful around the plants and their precious fruit.

He can’t hear anyone inside the house, so he finds the bathroom and gets ready for the day. He walks down the stairs and finds breakfast and a note in the kitchen, informing him that his host is at the research facility and that Kirk may either join him or amuse himself with whatever he pleases.

Kirk grins, eats his breakfast... and has every intention to stroll downhill to the facility, but once he steps outside, he is greeted by children with curious eyes and curious questions who start introducing themselves and each other, before one of their three supervisors can even do the same.

It turns out that there are eleven children – though two of them are being carried – and Kirk ends up telling outrageous stories of aliens and faraway planets and adventures, while alternately being shown around the vineyard and chasing children through it.

 

That’s how Khan finds him around noon. 

Kirk is on all fours, surrounded by children who screech in delight every time he imitates the growl of what appears to be a particularly vicious predator and raises a hand as if it has claws.

Khan remains standing a small distance away, just watching, smiling and chuckling, occasionally.

Eventually, the wild beast is slain dramatically, and Kirk surrenders to the brave warriors climbing on top of his lying form.

Khan walks closer, nodding at the two caretakers (the third he can see inside with one of the toddlers, assumingly preparing lunch) and comes to a halt next to the group on the ground.  
“James...?”

Kirk, still groaning pitifully, opens one eye.  
“Shh. I can’t speak. I’m mostly dead.”

Khan puts on a serious face. “I see. Well, that is a rather dire situation you find yourself in.”

Kirk stage whispers, “I deserved it. I tried to eat the baby.”

“Ah. In that case, I will leave you to your doom.”

Kirk nods and dies, appropriately to the cheers of his hunters. The hunters look worried after only a few seconds and poke him, until he opens his eyes, again, grinning.

One of the girls immediately grabs his hand. “Another story?” she asks with hopeful eyes.

Kirk groans (but he can’t hold back his smile). “I remember something about there being lunch ready when Khan comes home...”

That distracts the children and they run back to the house (in various speeds, according to their sizes and motoric development).

Khan holds out his hand to help Kirk to his feet.  
“You’ve been laid claim to,” he notes, smirking slightly.

“There was no way I could possibly escape.”

“Did you entertain them with your numerous adventures?”

Kirk grins. “They’re an appreciative audience.”

Khan laughs. “It would seem so, yes.”

They walk towards the house where the children and their supervisors are already setting up the lunch for all of them.

Kirk smiles. “You guys don’t believe in personal boundaries, do you?”

Khan raises an amused eyebrow at him. “I would have expected you to be able to relate to that...”

“Absolutely.”

“We are family,” Khan adds as they watch the bustle going on inside. “We don’t always agree, of course, but there is a Vulcan saying: _‘I am pleased to see that we have differences. May we together become greater than the sum of us.’_ ”

Kirk’s grin softens. “The ambassador’s touch?”

“Yes,” Khan nods. “And our own realisation that diversity is something to celebrate.”

*

In the late afternoon, a storm is brewing, and the children are being brought to their respective homes, just before it hits.

Khan raises the shield over the vines.

Kirk watches as the rain starts to fall, increasingly heavily. “The shield is still letting some water through, then?”

“Yes. We don’t always raise the shield, but this close to the harvest, a storm would damage the berries.” He directs Kirk to the other side of the house to look outside.  
“This is the direction the storm is coming from. You’ll have a better view...”

And what a view it is. It shows the planes on the other side of their settlement and the mountains in the distance. Or it would, since, right now, it is almost pitch black, the lightning only brightening the clouds and the landscape in a sharp contrast.

“Wow...” Kirk stares at the spectacle. “That’s quite a lot of electricity. You get storms like that often?”

Khan keeps watching, as well, and shakes his head. “No. Our weather is usually quite even-tempered. But when we do get a storm, it makes it worth it.”

“Everything’s safe, though, right? The houses and fields?”

“Of course.”

Kirk nods, distractedly and can’t keep his eyes off the spider’s web of lightning bolts that are being spun across the bottom of the thick carpet of clouds above. He laughs, delighted, when some of them manage to reach the ground, rolling thunder following them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Khan says, reverently.

Kirk nods, then looks sideways. Khan’s face is sporadically illuminated by the flashes outside, his expression utterly content and at ease.  
“Yeah, it is,” he says, feeling the happiness, as well.

Khan turns to smile at him, before their heads spin around, once more, when a particularly bright lightning bolt hits a patch of land only a few hundred metres away.

And that is when the whole might of water the storm holds is being unleashed.

 

They don’t leave the house, again, that day, but instead stay in the living room, watching the storm pass and the rain stay. They both attempt to read something, but they keep ending up staring at the same page and then return to their quiet talks or wordless companionship.

They don’t talk about any of the loaded questions that they both have. Kirk doesn’t ask about Khan’s talk with his mother, and Khan doesn’t ask about Tarsus. Knowing that it is there, and knowing that there is someone to listen should they want it, is enough for the time being.

They eventually get confirmation that both Winona and the ambassador would be returning the next day, and Khan briefly braves the rain to check if a harvest would still be a possibility, two days later.

He returns to the house mostly wet – despite the shield raised over the plants – and shakes his head.  
“The rain will stop during the night, and the sun tomorrow should make it possible to keep our harvest the day after.”

Kirk grins at him from where he sets the table with their dinner. “Looking forward to it.” That’s an understatement. He’s been envious every year, ever since Moonraker has started production of its wine.

Khan hangs up his rain coat and smirks. “Will you be joining the stomping?”

Kirk points at him with the bread knife. “Try and stop me.”

“I would not dream of it.”

 

When Khan brings a bottle of wine to the couch after dinner, Kirk blinks.

“You don’t have to wine me every day. I know how much every bottle means to you.”

Khan opens it, undeterred. “This is a different year, obviously. And...” he hesitates and pours them each a glass, “... your presence means a lot to me, as well. It is a special occasion, if you will.”

Kirk takes the offered glass and holds it for a long moment. “Being here means a lot to me, too. And not just because it’s even a possibility, in the first place. You know... because the procedure worked, and the project got approved, and everything is going well and all that. But...” he smiles at the dark liquid and eventually shakes his head and tilts it to look at Khan. “Just being here with you in a world you created.”

Khan takes a sip of his wine to give him a moment longer to collect his thoughts. “There is no _’just’_ about it.”

“No, there isn’t,” Kirk agrees, immediately. “I knew from the beginning that you had potential should everything go according to plan. I didn’t expect to like you. Like you a lot.”

Khan smiles a sardonic smile. “I didn’t expect to like either of us.”

Kirk smirks. “What’s not to like? We’re both pretty awesome.”

Khan laughs, and then they just sit and enjoy the patter of the rain against the windows, the pleasant company and the lull of the wine.

*

It’s not the sun shining in through the window that wakes them in the morning, but a knock on the doorframe.

They both blink at the sudden intrusion and realise that they apparently have never made it to their beds, the night before. They are greeted by two familiar faces.

“It appears that the separation hasn’t damaged your natural rapport,” the ambassador remarks, making Winona grin.

“You didn’t expect that it would have, did you?” she asks him.

Kirk rubs his face, grinning, and then stands to hug his mother, tightly.

“Hello, Jim.”

“Hey, mom.”

Then she lets him greet the ambassador and goes to hug Khan. “And how’s my other boy?”

Kirk grins over his shoulder. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s been laid claim to...”

“The children were quite taken with his numerous tales, yesterday,” Khan explains at Winona’s inquisitive look. 

“Ah,” she nods, understanding and points at her son. “I expect some of those tales, as well.”

Kirk spreads his arms. “Of course.”

Then she grins. “But first, I think the ambassador has something for Khan.”

Khan perks up, and Kirk really hopes that it’s what he thinks it is.

The ambassador takes out a small tablet and holds it out for Khan to take. “Starfleet Command has suspended the restriction on your freedom of movement and approved your commission for the Enterprise’s next five-year mission.”

Numbly, Khan holds the tablet in his hand for a few seconds before he blinks and looks at the information. It does have his name on it, lists his academic achievements and says _’Enterprise’_ at the bottom.

Kirk grins widely and claps Khan’s shoulder. “See? Told you.” Khan looks up, and Kirk’s grin softens. “Congratulations.”

The ambassador adds some more information for the benefit of Kirk, since Khan doesn’t appear like he is about to let go of the tablet, just then.  
“They have been hesitant to award a Starfleet rank to you before you have proven yourself in the field, but that is nothing we did not expect.”

Khan nods, looking at his name, again.

Kirk, on the other hand, doesn’t take this bit of news as well as Khan does.  
“What? Why the hell not?” he demands to know of the ambassador. “I’ve seen his curriculum and the results. He’d deserve a Lieutenant, and they’re not even giving him an Ensign?”

“It is not his education that is in question, Jim.”

“It’s been _five years_ ,” Kirk keeps protesting. A hand on his arm interrupts his train of thought.

“James...” Khan waits until Kirk returns his look. “It was to be expected, and I have no interest in ranks. I just want the chance to do what I have trained for, and hierarchies hardly matter. It is far more than I deserve.”

Kirk still frowns, darkly. “Oh, not that again. Either they suspend your restrictions, or they don’t!”

“The restrictions of movement have been suspended, James,” Khan replies calmly. “I am more than happy to prove myself in the field, as I was going to do that, anyway.”

Kirk breathes out, staring at the floor. “I still don’t like it.”

Khan cups the side of Kirk’s face and makes him look up before he lets go, again. “I will be coming with you,” he states, frankly but smiling a bit.

Kirk has to grin back. “Yeah, alright. I like that part.”

Khan straightens. “Now, Captain, before I have to follow your orders for five years, I am going to have to ask you to follow mine.”

Kirk raises an eyebrow.

“We have a harvest to prepare for, after all.”

***

Kirk is sun-tanned, relaxed and happy when he returns to Earth to prepare his ship and crew in the last month before their departure.

When he sees McCoy seated at a table of the café where they had agreed on meeting, he purposefully walks across the square and waves.  
He grins widely when he sees that McCoy isn’t alone. It’s not exactly a surprise, but he likes to find Marcus with him, anyway.  
“Doctor Marcus,” he greets her first. “How lovely to see you again so soon.”

“And you, Captain,” she grins right back.

“Bones!” Kirk exclaims and lets himself fall into a seat, making McCoy roll his eyes. “How’s Joanna?”

The eye-roll is being replaced by a smile. “She’s great,” he says with no small amount of pride. “And she’ll be here with her mother for our departure. She asked to see you...” That last part almost sounds like a threat.

Kirk snickers. “I will be the most courteous model-captain, ever, to please you and your daughter, good sir.” He lifts the bag he’s brought. “And to prove my goodwill, I come bearing a gift.” He smirks, takes out the wine bottle and hands it to McCoy.

McCoy takes it with a grin and holds it to read the label, while at the same time showing it to Marcus.  
“Well, well, well,” he says, appreciatively, before raising an eyebrow at Kirk. “I’m surprised you left some for me.”

Kirk leans back, crosses his legs and grins. “I’ve had my fair share.”

McCoy’s grin melts into something more serious or possibly concerned. “He didn’t come with you?”

“No,” Kirk answers, nonchalantly. “We’re doing another cargo run to Moonraker that needs doing, anyway, when we leave and pick him up on the way out.”

McCoy knows well enough why it is that Khan doesn’t want to visit Earth, even for a short while. “But he’s okay?”

Kirk smiles, softly. “He’s fine. It just might be a bit early for that.”

“Understandable,” Marcus agrees.

“But, damn, that colony is gorgeous,” Kirk adds, enthusiastically. “If I’m ever going to retire, it’ll be there.”

“You do look quite... settled,” McCoy teases him, making Marcus laugh. If there is one thing Kirk is not, it’s _’settled’_.

“Yeah, you’re laughing now, but you haven’t seen it,” Kirk says, good-naturedly and waves a finger at McCoy. “The harvest alone is worth it, and that doesn’t take into account everything else on top of it.” His eyes lose focus. “I can’t believe that he’s willing to give it up for five years at a time.”

“You would,” McCoy offers.

“Well, yeah,” Kirk has to agree. “But I’m me, and I didn’t have five years to get used to it, and it’s not my home that I’ve built from scratch.”

“Perhaps he’s getting restless, too?” Marcus adds.

Kirk absently shakes his head. “Not at all, no. He’s settled and at ease. I think he just wants to prove himself some more, that our trust in him is not misplaced. Living isolated on a colony is easy.”

Marcus and McCoy both nod.

McCoy tilts his head at Kirk. “And I certainly don’t mind having another medical professional on board, what with the rate you get injured.”

“Thanks, Bones,” Kirk says, sarcastically. “He’s officially a counsellor and scientist. If you need him, you can have him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help.”

McCoy nods. “I read some of the data of the Moonraker flora and fauna. He’ll probably just plug himself into Sulu’s botany bay and never resurface.”

“Except of course,” Marcus quickly adds, “to play chess with his captain.”

Kirk is about to answer that when he realises something. “We actually haven’t played once, the whole time I was there,” he says, making his friends laugh.

“It was probably the wine...” McCoy says, amused.

Kirk crosses his arms. “You know, I wasn’t drunk the whole time.”

“You actually just had your fair share, then.”

Kirk snickers. “I did. And...” he pauses, “... the wine means a lot to him. I’m not going to use it to get drunk.”

McCoy’s smirk softens. “What do you know. I think our captain might actually grow up to be a considerate adult. What do you think, Doctor Marcus?”

She smiles and then puts on a mock-serious face. “We might want to keep that one a secret a while longer.”

McCoy plays along. “It will give us the element of surprise.”

Kirk shakes his head, grinning. “You’re both idiots.”

McCoy relieves his captain and changes the topic. “Is he finally going to let me remove that damn implant? He still has it, doesn’t he?”

Kirk’s smile dims a bit. “Yeah, he still has it.”

McCoy doesn’t like Kirk’s expression one bit. “Don’t tell me he wants to keep it.”

“Just for a while.”

McCoy groans and rubs his face.

“Look,” Kirk says, leaning forward. “I told him that I don’t want him to wear it indefinitely, but he insisted on keeping it for long enough for the crew to get used to him on board.”

McCoy huffs. “They’ve been getting used to him for five years. Even Spock noticed that the regular updates from Moonraker boosted the crew’s morale.”

Kirk smiles. “We both know that. Give him the time to find out about that, himself.”

McCoy still looks sour. “For the record. I do not condone having crew members under my care carrying around implanted torture instruments.”

“Noted.” It’s not like Kirk likes the thought any more than McCoy does. It’s just that he also understands why Khan has so far insisted on keeping it.  
“So,” this time it’s Kirk changing the topic. “Who else is in town?”

McCoy decides to allow it. “Sulu’s around, of course. Your first officer will be arriving tomorrow as I understand it and bring Uhura. Scotty’s at the shipyard scaring the inspectors.” He looks at Marcus to confirm. “Anyone else?”

“I don’t think so. I think everyone else will arrive a week before departure.”

Kirk grins. “Time to hit some bars with Sulu, then, before I have to be the considerate adult for Spock, tomorrow. You guys coming along?” he asks, looking hopeful.

“Might as well make sure you’re not getting into trouble,” McCoy says by way of accepting the invitation.  
But neither he nor Marcus feel like Kirk needs much looking after. Perhaps he _is_ growing up.

***

Of course, once the Enterprise reaches Moonraker, Kirk insists on picking up their new crew member, personally, while the supplies are being beamed down (and Khan’s belongings up).

He finds him in the midst of colonists on the square in front of the research facility that serves as a meeting point. Khan is kneeling and hugging children who look very reluctant to let him go.

Kirk feels a pang of _something_ for taking this man from his family for five years, but he also knows that this is what Khan wants. He knows that the community is proud to have one of their own join Starfleet. He knows it won’t be forever. Still...  
He puts on a brave smile and approaches them, having his arms full of his mother in seconds.

Khan looks up, wearing his nondescript black Starfleet uniform that he’s worn so many years ago.

Kirk smiles ruefully when he sees that the children don’t look quite as welcoming as the last time he’s visited.

Khan nods at him and then returns his attention to the children. “I will contact you.”

“A lot?” one of them asks.

“Of course. You must tell me about all the things that happened here, and I need someone to watch over the vines,” he informs them, seriously.

Kirk listens to Khan consoling the little ones and nods at the other colonists, including Doctor Stadi who has decided to remain on Moonraker. He is secretly glad that his mother has someone else who can keep an eye on things. Not on the colonists, but on what the Federation might choose to do with it in his absence. It would seem that his trust issues have not quite dissolved, even in five years.

Eventually, his mother brushes over his face with both hands and kisses his cheek, then she nods bravely.  
“Take care of yourself.”

Kirk grins. “Always.”

Winona’s eyes wander to Khan. “And him.”

Kirk pulls her close again and whispers, “I promise.” Then he steps away and comes to stand next to Khan.  
He addresses the children, directly. “I’ll bring him back, soon, you’ll see. And he’ll have lots of adventures to tell you about.”

Khan joins in. “And I will tell you about all of them.”

Some children are happy at the prospect of that, others won’t be pacified quite as easily, but their parents and caretakers manage to convince them to wave goodbye when Khan stands and steps next to his captain.

Kirk licks his lips and briefly looks at his mother before he asks, “Ready, Mister Singh?”

Despite the tearful goodbye, Khan looks as steady and content as ever. “Ready, Captain.”

It makes Kirk smile. “Kirk to Enterprise. Two to beam up.”

 


	8. Sky Blue and Dark Crimson

Khan enters the mess hall and several people nod at him when he makes eye contact. He returns the nods and gets his dinner, still marvelling at the ease with which he has been accepted as a (though perhaps somewhat eccentric) addition to the crew, even after half a year of serving on board.

Uhura waves him over when he turns to find a seat. Given that she is sitting with Sulu, Khan has an idea why she looks so eager. Well… it _was_ funny, so he can’t really blame either of them.

“Good evening,” he greets them as he sits.

“So,” she says, leaning forward, grinning widely. “Tell me all about those sex pollen.”

Sulu bursts out laughing, and Khan has to grin a bit.

“Nobody was subjected to their effects, and we’re not even entirely sure if they would have an effect on humanoids.”

Uhura exhales explosively and sits back. “Such a shame. The romance novel would practically write itself.” She sends him an accusatory look with an amused smirk. “Why did you have to detect it before the landing party beamed down?”

Khan laughs, and Sulu points at her.

“You’re evil.”

Khan sobers after only a moment. “Commander Spock in particular was grateful. Being exposed to that kind of pheromone could have caused severe complications with his… metabolism.”

Uhura seems to know at least something about what Khan is implying, and Sulu wisely doesn’t comment further.

Instead, Sulu asks, “Because of his hybrid physiology?”

Khan nods, contemplative. “Possibly. Procreation is a delicate process in any species, but it is particularly complex for hybrids. I was asked to run tests, just to make sure, in case we encounter another planet with a similar fauna.”

Uhura, who is now definitely done joking, looks at Khan, seriously. “The experiments are going to be contained, right?”

“Of course,” Khan smiles. “But the protein compound of the plant disintegrated once we left the planet. It appears it needs its unique environmental conditions.” He takes a bite of his dinner. “The commander is quite safe,” he adds. “The remaining plants are inside a contamination field, and the pollens are inactive. The tests will mostly be theoretical.”

Now, even Sulu looks worried. “He’d actually be in danger?”

Khan shifts, slightly. “As far as we know, no known pheromone could cause any harm.”

Sulu catches on. “But this was an unknown one.”

“Yes,” Khan agrees. “It is better to be cautious.”

Uhura looks so solemn that Sulu has to ask. “I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to piss off, but… what could happen?”

Uhura and Khan share a look, and Uhura is clearly relieved when Khan answers.

“A rather violent fever could theoretically be triggered, however unlikely that scenario might be.” The mood has decidedly dwindled, so Khan clears his throat and straightens in his seat. “Nobody will stop you from writing that novel, though, Lieutenant Uhura,” he says, making the other two laugh.

Sulu holds up his hands, signing a title. “Cupid’s Planet,” he says.

Uhura pulls a face groaning. “Oh, that’s awful! No, no, come on. You can do better.”

Khan chuckles and eats his dinner, while his two companions make up more and more outrageous titles for that novel that they know nobody would write, anyway. Probably.

 

When they’re done inventing titles, Sulu turns to Khan.  
“You’re going to start with the experiments, tomorrow?”

Khan nods. “Yes. Would you like to participate?”

“I won’t hold up your work, but I’d like to join you after my shift.”

“That will not be a problem. The preparations will likely take most of the day, so the critical processes should still be untouched when your shift is over,” he says, good-naturedly.

Sulu claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks,” he says and grins at Uhura. “See you tomorrow on the bridge.”

Uhura waits until the door to the mess closes behind Sulu, and Khan is not surprised when she lowers her voice and leans forward.  
“Thank you for your… diplomatic answer. I wasn’t sure you how much you knew about Vulcan physiology.”

“We have been doing DNA testing at the facility on Moonraker, and the ambassador kindly let us do comparative tests on his DNA, as well as that of other Vulcans and Humans in comparison to the engineering of my people and me. So I was aware of some quite interesting chemical reactions that his metabolism is capable of.”

Uhura nods. “I don’t know everything – or even most – but I know enough about possible symptoms to know when it becomes urgent to take measures.”

Khan just calmly returns her slightly agitated look. “The commander and I are both scientists. He is of course somewhat reserved, but he was not averse to discussing chemical components and his DNA on a scientific level. And while Doctor McCoy is not aware of all the implications, both he and I would recognise the signs, as well.”

“Do you think it’s feasible to assume that it will happen at all?”

Khan hesitates. “I would have thought it to be highly unlikely given the commander’s physiology. However… given the ambassador’s experiences, that is probably a false assumption.”

“And… do you think… that I should ask him to discuss this further with me?”

Khan slightly shakes his head. “I believe discussing the details is something he is physically incapable of doing until it becomes imperative.”

Uhura deflates, though she has expected that. And she really doesn’t want to force the issue.

“However… if he consents, I might be able to project an estimation for you.”

She perks up a bit, again.

“I will inquire whether or not he would be amenable.”

She breathes out. “Thank you.”

Khan leans forward a bit. “The commander cares deeply for you, but as you know, he is constantly battling the deeply ingrained shame he feels for allowing this in the first place. He has chosen to live his life outside of the culture that has raised him, but he has not left it behind completely.”

Uhura smiles. “I know. I wouldn’t want him to.”

Khan’s lip quirks. “I see that his choice of partner was a sentimental as well as a logical one.”

Uhura laughs, then she tilts her head. “If he knows what’s good for him,” she says, smirking.

***

Khan keeps busy. He doesn’t really have shifts like everyone else, but then, that was never the idea with his commission. It takes the biggest part of the first year for the crew to even actively seek out his counsel, despite their acceptance of him, but now that they do, Khan pretty much just happily takes on these sessions on top of everything else.

Today is a day where he tries to keep particularly busy, and still he misses his family, Doctor Stadi and the ambassador and their insights. He misses Winona, as well, but her particular brand of insight is not something he has to go without. He spends a lot of time with Kirk, after all.  
No, today, he just fiercely misses his home, and when his door chimes, he doesn’t know whether he should curse or bless Kirk’s uncanny ability to read him. (He has no doubts whatsoever that it is, indeed, Kirk who is seeking him out.)

“Enter,” he calls out, and he was right, of course.

Kirk smiles and steps inside, holding up a bottle of wine. “I had a feeling you might be needing some of this, today.”

Khan smiles, ruefully. “I am not sure if this is such a good idea, James.”

Kirk gets two glasses from one of Khan’s cabinets and just flops down next to him on the couch.  
“Well, I’m not about to let you drink on your own. You should be fine,” he says, opens the bottle and pours them both a glass.

They drink silently for a long while, as they are known to. The company enough even without words.

“I do not regret coming with you, James,” Khan eventually feels like he should clarify, given the mood he’s in.

“I know,” Kirk replies, immediately. “You’re just homesick. Happens to most of us, at some point.”

Khan tilts his head towards Kirk. “Not to you.”

Kirk half shrugs. “I don’t have a home to miss,” he says, making it sound every bit like the loaded statement it is. “I do occasionally miss a blue sky and sun on my skin, but we get these, every now and again, out here, too.”

“Hm,” Khan hums and nods slightly. “The things I miss are somewhat more substantial, though it still seems needlessly melancholy to miss my home. It’s still out there, after all. I can return when I wish.”

Kirk raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how homesickness works, you know.”

“It’s just that it occurred to me,” he says, sipping his wine, “when I was feeling maudlin, today... that it must be so much worse for Commander Spock.”

Kirk nods. “It is. Not only because he lost his planet, I imagine, but because he rejected it right up until it was destroyed. Now, it must be more of an imaginary homeland. A home he misses even though it was never his home while he was there, and a home that definitely wasn’t to him what he misses, now.” He sighs. “You’re right. It sucks.”

The concept is familiar, but Khan can’t quite place it, so he nods. “And I have a beautiful home to return to,” he says, sounding sad and happy at the same time.

Kirk finishes his second glass and leans his head against the back of the couch, smiling at Khan. “You do. Really beautiful.”

Khan smiles back. “And yet I have every intention to join you on another mission, should you be willing to have me.”

Kirk’s smile grows to a wide grin. “Best damn news I’ve heard all day.”

Khan nearly bursts from the affection he feels for this man. He is certain that it has grown to be so much more than gratitude, now. It is genuine regard. Regard for a man who is more intoxicating than a bottle of wine could ever hope to be.  
He can find the same warmth and pleasant disorientation in the sky-blue eyes as in the dark crimson of Moonraker’s fermented grapes.

“You make a good addition to my family,” Kirk adds, softly and honestly.

Khan’s hand twitches, acting on an unfamiliar impulse to reach out and touch, but he holds it back.  
“Thank you, James,” he manages to breathe out after a few long seconds.

“I wish you’d been around earlier.” Kirk leans forward to refill both their glasses and empty the bottle.

Khan doesn’t really know what precise incident Kirk is thinking about, but it appears like, for some reason or another, they are _both_ in need of company, today.

“You would have kicked ass on Tarsus.”

Khan can feel a lump form in his throat. “James...”

“Yeah, I know, I know. I don’t mean the you from before. I mean _you_ -you. If there had been a teenage you-you.” He doesn’t even realise that he finishes his glass in one go until it is empty.  
“Damn,” he huffs, disgusted and disappointed in himself. “And I even told Bones I wouldn’t ever use your wine to get drunk, and now look at me. Sitting here and wishing I’d brought another bottle.”

Khan stands. “I have one.”

“No, look, I know the wine is important...”

Khan retrieves a bottle and turns, sharply. “You are more important. And while I don’t usually think that getting drunk is a good course of action to uncover one’s painful past, I’m sure that every counsellor you’ve ever had will agree that getting something out of you by whatever means necessary is preferable to letting it stew.”

Kirk looks torn. “I came here because you’re homesick and missing a harvest. Not to whine about what happened ages ago.”

Khan returns to the couch, puts the bottle down and sits, turning towards Kirk and taking a hold of one of his hands.  
“James, I am happy in my life. Immeasurably happy. I just want to help you and only if you want me to.” 

Kirk doesn’t answer.

“There will be no file and no report. Just me listening to someone I care deeply about. Would you like to tell me what happened on Tarsus?”

Kirk is silent for several minutes, and Khan waits patiently for him to put his thoughts and emotions in order.  
“I told Bones some of it, once, while I was drunk at the Academy,” he eventually says. “Not much, just the basics.” He stares into the distance. “I nearly made him throw up.” He rubs his face. “Actually, he might have. I’m a little vague on the details.”

Khan moves his hand from Kirk’s and up his arm to rest on his shoulder.

“Spock just scoured the files and knows more than he should, the bastard,” he huffs, smiling a bit, as if he’s glad that someone knows more details without him having to spell them out, first. “I know that he found more than he should have by how he reacted when... when we were at that planet.” He clears his throat. “The one with the slave prostitution. And you know what it’s like to be prepared to do anything to protect your loved ones.”

Khan feels as if ice runs down his back. He’s had his suspicions, but having them confirmed is another thing entirely.

Kirk clears his throat again and licks his lips. “So you’ll understand that I need more of your beautiful wine to talk about this.”

Khan doesn’t think that he’ll let Kirk get as drunk as he must have been with McCoy at the Academy, if he doesn’t even remember whether or not anyone had to throw up at hearing the story.

Kirk smiles at him, ruefully, and the movement of his head makes Khan’s hand slide behind his neck, warmly.  
“Don’t worry. Won’t take much. I’m already closer than I’ve ever been.”

“James, I...” He knows how he should react in situations like this one. He’s had the training, and he certainly has the knowledge, but it’s hiding behind a veil of pain and anger and... affection. So much affection. Far too much to not be compromised by it.

“No, it’s alright. I’m... immeasurably happy, now, too.” He laughs, painfully, wetly. “And I want to tell you. I want to get this out.”

Khan studies him for a moment longer and decides that it doesn’t matter that he can’t access the training. Kirk needs a friend, now, not a therapist. So he opens the new bottle, refills Kirk’s glass, wraps his arm around the other man and pulls him closer so that Kirk’s head rests against his shoulder. He isn’t aware that he thinks about kissing the top of his head until he’s already doing it.  
“Whatever you want to tell me, James. I’ll listen.”

 

And Kirk tells him everything. He tells him how it all started as an adventure, a way to finally get away from Earth’s confining reality to a new world far away, and then how the dream became a nightmare full of blood and hunger and shame. He tells him everything that happened, everything that he did to survive and try to help others escape Kodos’ clutches. How he hid in cellars and dark corners with the other children that the older ones tried to protect. How he did everything he could think of to obtain food and water and medicine... and how he very soon realised that stealing wouldn’t be enough.

Kirk finishes the second bottle of wine on his own, and Khan never comments on it. He just holds his friend and lets him speak.

After a long, painful time, Kirk falls asleep with his head still on Khan’s shoulder. He’s not as drunk as he’s exhausted, and Khan is warm and safe.

Only once Khan is sure that Kirk is deeply asleep, he allows his own tears to fall. He cries silently, as not to wake him, but he doesn’t try to bury the pain he feels. How could he? Kirk is too important for him to diminish his grief in any way.  
He breathes deeply into Kirk’s hair, breathes through the sobs that want to shake his body.

Some part of him is reminding him once more of how close to Kodos he used to be, and he vows with every fibre of his being that he will never stand by and watch anything like this happen. Ever. And if he has to go against the Prime Directive to ensure it, then he has no doubt that he will not stand alone.

 

Once he has calmed his breathing enough, and the tears have ceased, he easily lifts Kirk and carries him to his bed, laying him down.

He sits next to him for a long time and just watches him sleep, marvelling at how such a person could even exist that shakes and complements and unnerves and fulfils him so utterly. And he knows that had he joined Kirk five years earlier and without the chance to grow into himself and his emotions, feeling so strongly for someone would have scared the living daylights out of him.

As it is, he grants himself the luxury of revelling in the warm affection he feels. Kirk is too important to diminish his love for him, too, after all.

*

When Kirk wakes the next morning, he is alone, and there is a note and a hypo-spray on the bedside table.

_Good morning, James._  
_This should take care of the after-effects of the wine, at least._  
_I will be seeing you for our chess game, tonight._  
_\- K_

Kirk doesn’t even think about applying the medication, immediately and sighs in relief when the painkiller sets in. He hasn’t drunk all that much, but he has a feeling that the headache is only partially due to that, anyway...

Then he thinks that, had it been McCoy instead of Khan, he would have let him hear it before giving him anything. The thought makes him snicker. Then again, had McCoy listened to the same story, he wouldn’t have, truth to be told. But he would probably still be sitting here, uncomfortably (and possibly drunk, himself), not knowing what to say.

One day, he’s going to have to tell him, anyway.

***

Kirk looks up from reading his report when his door chimes. “Come in.”

His chief of security steps inside, and Kirk puts down the report (suppressing the ever-present urge to address the man as _’cupcake’_ ).  
“Yes, Mister Hendorff, what can I do for you?”

Hendorff stands at attention. “Sir, it’s about today’s away mission.”

“At ease, Lieutenant. Have a seat.”

Hendorff seems almost reluctant to sit down, but he follows the order, nonetheless.

“I thought everything went well,” Kirk says, tapping the report. They got the readings, and there were no hostile encounters, humanoid or otherwise.

“Sir, there was an incident with Mister Singh.”

Kirk blinks. They’re over two years into their mission, and he has no doubt whatsoever that Khan would stand by his crew as the crew stands by him. So...  
“Why, what happened?”

Hendorff straightens in his seat and takes a deep breath. “Sir, I’m here to inform you that the security staff refuses to be given the controller for Mister Singh’s back brace on any further away missions. He will either have to carry it himself or have the brace removed.”

Kirk’s eyes narrow, and he squints at the report. Khan has written it, and it says _’uneventful’_. Goddammit, he really should know better than to fall for that one!  
“What happened?” he repeats.

 

Only two minutes later, Kirk storms out of his office and is on the way to the labs that are analysing the findings of the planetoid they have visited.

Kirk stands firmly in the doorway when he sees Khan working with two other scientists. “Mister Singh. A word.”

Khan straightens from where he was watching something under a microscope. “Yes, Captain.”

“In private.”

Khan takes a step away from the equipment, and the other scientists leave, nodding at Kirk who returns the nod.

“Is there something the matter, Captain?”

“Uneventful...” Kirk starts, and dammit, if he doesn’t sound like Pike.

Khan blinks, comprehension dawning and clears his throat.

“You could have broken your back, today, because a...” he tries to remember the word Hendorff has used, “... projectile firing plant was shooting arrows at the security guard accompanying you, and the controller came off her belt and fell down a hole in the ground. Right, so far?” he asks, sardonically.

“Captain, it was nothing to worry about. A silly accident.”

But Kirk is not done. “And then, since out of sheer dumb luck the device managed to land on a small ledge only just close enough for it to not be activated,” fuck, he really _does_ sound like Pike, “you decided to climb down _unsecured_ and retrieve it.”

Khan shifts. “Nothing happened, and I weighed the risks. I am an excellent climber...”

Kirk deflates and sighs, deeply. “Be that as it may. Lieutenant Hendorff has informed me that the security refuses to be in charge of your controller on away missions, in the future, and I have to agree with him.”

Khan’s jaw sets. “Giving the controller to me defies its purpose.”

Kirk’s expression softens, and he steps closer. “Khan...”

Khan’s expression in return immediately closes off. “No.”

“Just have Bones remove the damn thing, _please_.” He knows he could probably make that an order, but he is extremely reluctant to order anyone to undergo a medical procedure. He’s given Khan the choice from the beginning, and he’s not about to stop now. That doesn’t mean that he won’t try to talk him around...

“James... no.”

Kirk lowers his eyes and licks his lips. Dammit. “I’m not ordering you, but this has stopped being in any way necessary, ages ago. Everyone on board this ship trusts you. Hell, the _chief of security_ wants you untagged.”

Khan’s eyes dart around as if looking for answers that are just outside of his reach. “I... It’s the only safety-net I have left.” He looks at Kirk, imploringly. “Don’t you understand?” he demands. “If I take this away, it all depends on me.”

Kirk walks closer still and lays a hand on Khan’s arm. “A long time ago, you offered me your certainty. Remember?” he asks. “When you said that you know I wouldn’t wilfully neglect anyone?”

Khan remembers.

“Now I’m offering you mine. You don’t need the back brace,” he says, unwavering. “We all trust you.”

Khan still seems uncertain, and Kirk uses his other hand to cup the side of his face. And it’s just unfair, how Kirk can make him believe anything just by believing it himself. Warmth is spreading from where their skin is touching, and, eventually, he turns his face away from the connection.  
“James, please.”

Kirk clears his throat and steps back, letting both hands fall at his side. “Sorry,” he says, but none of the affection leaves his eyes.  
“Have a talk with Spock, or... _anyone_ , really. They’ll all tell you the same thing.”

Khan’s shoulders slump somewhat. He knows he’s running out of excuses. McCoy has been on his case practically every day in the past two years, and Kirk only left it alone because it made Khan feel more secure. Apparently, once it became clear that it was an empty feeling and didn’t secure him, at all, Kirk could no longer leave it alone. Khan understands that... Still. He is afraid, and he is not afraid to admit it.  
“Alright,” he says, carefully keeping his eyes averted.

Kirk smiles. “Hey...” he says, urging Khan to look up. “It’s gonna be alright. You’re part of our family; nothing depends on you alone. Trust me.”

Khan hesitates, then nods.

“And when it’s over, we’ll have some wine and play chess. It’s been a while since we’ve done that.”

Khan smiles, slightly. Yes, it’s been a while since they’ve had any of his wine. Not since... Kirk’s revelations. And pairing wine with chess does sound appealing. Like home. Not Moonraker – they never played chess on Moonraker – just like home.

“There is not much to do for you tomorrow,” Kirk continues, obviously thinking that he should strike the iron while it’s hot, “since we’ll just have boring trade negotiations with the S’Wajay...” He leaves the sentence open and raises his eyebrows, hopefully.

Khan nods, again. “Alright. I will ask Doctor McCoy if he has the capacity to see to me.”

Kirk grins. “He’ll make it, whether he has it or not.”

Khan has to laugh a bit, too. “You may just be right.”

Kirk’s expression grows softer and his eyes warmer, and Khan thinks that he would face worse fears than this one to accomplish that.

“Thank you,” Kirk says.

*

Later that day, Khan knocks on the doorframe of McCoy’s office when he finds the doctor inside reading a report.  
“Doctor McCoy?”

“Ah, Mister Singh,” McCoy greets him, sounding smug. “You’ve had quite the adventure, I'm told...”

Khan enters the office, and the door closes behind him. Clearly, McCoy expects what he is about to say.  
“Captain Kirk believes that you will have the time to perform a surgery tomorrow morning.”

McCoy leans back in his seat. “About damn time,” he says, heartfelt. “Have a seat.”

Khan blinks. He knows the procedure and everything that goes with it. There is really no reason for an appointment. Nevertheless, he sits when he sees that McCoy is serious about his request.

“Now,” McCoy starts. “Did Jim talk you into this?”

“He made a compelling argument, and the security refuses...”

“Yeah, I heard all that,” he says, unperturbed. “Did he talk you into it?” he repeats the question.

Khan is confused. “Are you not in favour of the procedure?”

McCoy sits up straight from his slouch and leans forward. “Of course I’m in goddamn favour! But I also know how much he means to you, and I’m not operating on you just because you want to please him!”

“Doctor, he...” Khan honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. “He is right, is he not?”

“Yes, he damn well is! And we all know that! You’re the only one who still doesn’t believe you can do this, despite of all the evidence to the contrary!”

Khan just stares at the vehemence. He is used to it from the doctor, but this seems a bit much, even for him.

“You’ve had a soft spot for him ever since the DNA treatment, and that connection or whatever definitely didn’t disappear while we were away.”

Khan has always known that. Of course he has. The talk with Spock about Florence Nightingale seven years ago was not just empty talk, and he knows it. Only... perhaps he hadn’t quite expected it to be as fitting as it turned out to be. It never mattered, before. He cares for many people, and the regard for his captain is merely different. It has never bothered him.

“And I’m afraid it’s just been painfully obvious since you joined the crew.”

Khan still doesn’t really know why McCoy is so insistent. “But that is hardly relevant,” he says, sounding confused.

“It is when you’re making decisions regarding your physical wellbeing because it’s what you think he wants.”

Ah. That actually makes sense, so Khan takes a minute to contemplate it. Is he trying to please Kirk by agreeing to have the brace removed?  
“Perhaps I do find it hard to ignore his advice because of my regard for him,” he admits. “But I believe it only made me consider something I should have considered long ago.”

McCoy releases his breath and leans back, again and studies Khan for a moment. “And he never asked before...” he adds, contemplative.

“He has not. Not really.”

“Because he understood why you wanted it from the beginning.”

“Yes.”

McCoy sighs, looking his grumpy self, again. “Oh-nine-hundred sharp, tomorrow morning, Mister Singh.”

Khan nods and stands, smiling haltingly. He still has reservations, and he still doesn’t like the thought of losing his last safety-net, but... he is just going to have to trust this crew and himself.  
When he is at the door, McCoy calls him, once more.

“Oh, yeah, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

McCoy clears his throat and shifts, uncomfortable. “About your... regard for the captain.”

Khan tilts his head, curious. “Yes?”

“It’s not unrequited. Thought you should know. Now get some rest, and I hope I’m never going to have to have another discussion like this one.”

Khan doesn’t know how to react to that rushed wall of words, so he settles for amused at the doctor’s antics and leaves.  
“Good night, Doctor McCoy.”

“Yeah. ‘Night, Mister Singh.”

*

Khan is actually five minutes early the next morning, and McCoy is already waiting for him with a team ready to operate.

“Didn’t change your mind, then,” McCoy says, smirking teasingly.

“Hardly.”  
Well. _‘Hardly’_ isn’t entirely correct. It is not correct, at all, in fact. He hasn’t slept a single minute, his mind running through all the horrific scenarios that could possibly go wrong if he no longer has any type of physical restraint.  
Only come morning has he managed to convince himself that it is not a mind altering or even mind controlling device, and that he should rethink his tendency to bestow emotional meaning upon inanimate objects.

McCoy sends Khan a look that lets him know exactly what he thinks of that claim – namely, not much – and that he doesn’t buy it for a second. He doesn’t voice it however and nods towards Doctor Marcus who is also present.  
“Doctor Marcus would like to examine the device after the removal if that is alright with you.”

“I have no preference.”

McCoy nods, “Okay,” and hands Khan a pair of white trousers. “Please undress and put these on.”

Khan takes them and breathes out, deeply but surreptitiously. “Yes, doctor.” Then he steps behind a curtain to undress.  
He can hear the medical personnel move machines around the bed he’s seen that is being prepared for him.  
Then the door opens, once more.

“Where is my favourite patient?” Kirk booms in lieu of wishing everyone a good morning.

“Jim, you can’t stay during the operation,” McCoy gripes at him.

“I’m not staying, Bones.” Khan can practically hear him roll his eyes at the chief medical officer, and it makes him smile.

After that, he has no more excuses to delay reappearing and just getting this damn well over with. He opens the curtain and steps back into view.  
Kirk’s open and honest smile makes him pause for a second. He remembers the dark thoughts of the night... and can watch them dissolve in the light of the morning.  
He returns the smile. “Captain.”

Kirk straightens into a captainly stance. “You know, this is a James kinda day.” Then he smirks.

“So it is,” Khan confirms. “The captain will have to wait until I’m back in full working order.”

Kirk snickers, and McCoy rolls his eyes.

“Why the two of you always have to be so goddamn histrionic is beyond me,” McCoy complains and pats the bed. “Up you go,” he tells Khan.

Khan complies, no longer feeling the cold of the night, and lowers himself onto the bed.

“On your front,” McCoy instructs him further.

Khan relaxes, keeping his head to the side to see where Kirk is standing.

“Ready?” the doctor asks, and Khan nods, calmly.

“Hang on a second,” Kirk interrupts and steps closer to the bed. He takes Khan’s hand that is lying on the bed and looks at him, intently.  
“You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“I trust you.”

Kirk smiles ruefully. “And you should trust yourself, too, you know.”

Khan chuckles, then nods. “I do.” How could he not? Kirk wills it so... and it is too hard to sustain doubts in the bright light of Kirk’s morning. Too hard to even want to.

“Okay, enough dallying,” McCoy lays a hand on Kirk’s shoulder.

“For fuck’s sake, Bones.”

McCoy catches Kirk’s eyes, seriously, despite his teasing words. “Everything will be in perfect order, Captain.”

Kirk searches his face. “Alright.”

“Now, scat. We’ve got work to do.”

Kirk steps back but remains standing against the wall of the room, waiting for Khan to fall asleep.

“Alright, Mister Singh,” McCoy says, decisively, bringing the machinery into position. He studies his patient’s readings. “Breathe deeply a few times,” he instructs Khan.  
“Now hold your breath and count to ten.”

Khan does it... and...

*

When he wakes up, he is hot and cramped, and it’s dark, there is the distant sound of an alert-

“Don’t move!” McCoy.

Khan’s eyes snap open, and he looks around, disoriented. Jefferies Tube. What the hell is he doing, lying in a Jefferies Tube?  
He tests whether or not he can move properly. His legs and feet obey his command, as do his arms. But there is very clearly a painkiller coursing through his system.  
“What happened?!” he rasps past his dry throat.

“The goddamn S’Wajay, that’s what happened!”

Khan’s eyes harden. Trade negotiations, wasn’t it? Well... someone clearly has a different understanding of that.

“Now listen to me. We don’t have much time. I did the procedure, but I couldn’t heal your back, properly, afterwards. It should hold, superficially, but I can’t guarantee any acrobatics won’t do a heckload of damage. Your freaky healing ability should be able to deal with a lot of it, but the damage is substantial, so don’t go doing anything stupid.”

“I don’t feel any pain...” he starts, cautiously.

“That’s because you’re drugged up to your eyeballs. Your metabolism won’t let you have that relief for long, so enjoy it while it lasts.”

“What did the S’Wajay want? What are they doing?”

“They’re taking over the ship. They haven’t reached medical, yet...”

Khan frowns. “So what are we doing in here? Where are we headed?”

“I’m trying to get to the injured they’ve rounded up with other crew members in the cargo bay.”

Khan stares angrily at him. “I, too, have medical training...”

“I may have made some modifications to your medical file that is open next to the operating table.”

“What are you implying, doctor?”

McCoy smirks. “I classified you as a prisoner who was about to _get_ the back brace. So when they get their hands on you – and given how this has been going, today, they will...”

Khan’s eyes widen.

“You’re the only one who can do this. The only one who is not registered among the Starfleet ranks.” When Khan still stares at him, he gets annoyed.  
“Cut me some slack! I had to try and fix your back during an attack, come up with something that would keep them from harming you further and then drag your sorry ass in here!”

Khan rubs his face, and McCoy seems to realise that Khan needs some slack cut, too.

“Yeah, sorry. Not the nicest of awakenings, I’d wager.”

Khan’s mind is already working at full speeds. “Have they taken the detention area, yet?”

“I dunno. We’ve been in here ten minutes, but I don’t see why they would be interested in a cell block.”

Khan nods. “It’s definitely not a priority during an attack.”

McCoy looks at him, hopeful, understanding what he is getting at. “You can do this?”

And Khan knows, without a doubt... “I can.”

McCoy smirks back. “Move your ass and watch your back, Mister Singh.”

“You, as well, doctor.”

They climb in different directions. They have a family to protect.

 


	9. Emergency Protocol

Khan kicks open the hatch of the Jefferies Tube and slips out, already feeling the first twinge in his back, alerting him to the fact that the painkiller will not keep up its effects for much longer. He lands on his feet and faces two security officers who apparently have managed to escape capture for the time being.

They both have their weapons raised until they realise who they are facing and lower them, again.

Khan can hear commotion from the corridor, hurries over to one of the cells and opens it.  
“Close it behind me,” he tells them, and they both look at each other in confusion. “Hurry!” he adds, and once they comply, he quickly explains, “Doctor McCoy has reminded me of the fact that I am the only member of this crew who is not listed among the ranks. He has also marginally modified my medical records to support the appearance that I am here against my will.”

“You’ll try to deceive them,” says one of the officers.

Khan only manages to nod before the door is blasted open, and in the blink of an eye, his entire demeanour changes. His expression, the way he carries his body... all of it is given a dark and angry edge that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He adds impatience that he’s never allowed himself to express, not even when in captivity, before.

A group of S’Wajay storms into the room, and it only takes seconds before they apprehend the two security officers, merely one of their own crumbling in the crossfire.

The one who appears to be in charge of the group barks, “Get them to the cargo bay!”

Khan watches them, minutely, while pacing up and down his cell. He carefully controls his body language to hide that he is analysing every step they take. The S’Wajay on the floor is clearly dead from the brief scuffle, but none of the others appear to care. They fight in small groups, apparently trained to take over a ship with enough force in their first strike and in such a short time that the enemy has no chance to react to the threat. He doubts this is a military operation and definitely not in tune with what Khan has read about the culture’s military forces. No... They are rogue fighters. Mercenaries. Pirates.

He suppresses the visual cues of his satisfaction just as he has suppressed the ones of his observation.  
Good. People who are only after their personal gain and have no delusions about moral superiority are much easier to manipulate.

The leader gives Khan a quick and smug once-over, clearly not in the least interested in aiding a prisoner who is of no consequence, but Khan has managed to make people let him escape with more reason behind their actions than greed.

When the S’Wajay turns to follow hir comrades, Khan raises his voice. “Are you having fun trying to take over the bridge without help?” he asks, showing a smug smirk that easily outdoes the pirate’s.

The pirate’s smug smirk fades immediately, but ze turns and leaves, nonetheless.

Khan doesn’t mind. It won’t be long before whoever this lackey has to report to will return with questions.  
And he knows quite well that it will not be possible to take over _his_ ship. Board it, take everyone captive and possibly destroy it. But not take it over; not without taking the systems apart completely.  
The Enterprise had been in a sorry state of security when he had first joined the crew, but, thanks to his strategic insight, paired with Mister Scott’s innovative mind, Doctor Marcus’ knowledge about weaponry, Mister Spock’s logical analyses, Lieutenant Uhura’s way with (and around) language use, and Captain Kirk’s knack for… _‘creative programming’_ … the bridge and system can now go into complete lockdown.  
It is still possible to enter the bridge – if the attacker is determined and creative enough – but the controls are off limits for anyone but the captain in case of an enemy takeover.  
Since the ship is still in one piece, Khan can only assume that the self-destruction, at least, has not been activated, yet.

 

It takes longer than Khan has initially expected for someone to find him again – it’s closer to ten rather than five minutes – but he suspects (or hopes) that this means that the S’Wajay have possibly found the false information Doctor McCoy has added to the data base. It is always easier to convince people of lies when they have found it to be true, themselves, first.  
It is, of course, always preferable to simply tell the truth… There is usually enough truth to tell to convince someone of a lie.

He slips back into his character when the door opens. He has feared for a moment that it would remind him of a too painful past, and that this might be distracting. He is relieved to find himself feeling stronger, instead. The chasm between who he is and who he is portraying is staggeringly large, and he is almost dizzy with the realisation.  
He breathes through the momentary happiness and faces the ship’s captors.

“Grown frustrated, yet?” he asks, smugly. He’s not quite sure if he is speaking to the pirates’ captain or merely another higher-up lackey.

The pirate steps closer, imperiously, four guards watching hir back.

Probably captain, then, Khan decides. He straightens to compensate for the S’Wajay’s considerable height.

“If you know what is good for you, you will cooperate,” the pirate says.

Khan merely raises an eyebrow. “I am quite adept at cooperation,” he replies, sarcastically. “Or I would have been killed several times over.” No lie, so far.

The S’Wajay huffs. “Your medical records state that you were beginning to be increasingly difficult to handle…”

Khan tilts his head, and his lips quirk in amusement. “Cooperation of course implies that there is some kind of reward.” He pauses, catching the pirate’s eyes. “I was merely slowly coming to the conclusion that the reward was no longer adequate.”

That earns him a chuckle. “Opportunist. I can appreciate that.”

Khan has expected that.

“What is your name, prisoner?”

“Khan.”

The pirate struts up and down in front of the cell. “Well, then, Khan. You have mentioned to my crew that you have information about this formidable ship…” ze leaves the sentence hanging, implying that Khan had better have that information.

Khan merely smiles, coldly and steps up to the glass, capturing the pirate’s eyes again, making hir freeze in hir secure steps, despite their positions.  
“Why should I betray the hand that feeds me even if the other hand holds me captive, when the alternative is nothing but a common _pirate_?”

 _That_ earns Khan a reaction. The pirate straightens now, a gurgling sound of fury escaping the undulating throat, and a canvas of leathery skin opening like a sail behind the head before it settles again. 

It reminds Khan eerily of a frilled dragon lizard, but despite of the height and the frightening demeanour, he doesn’t even blink and remains utterly unimpressed.

The pirate leans closer and lowers hir vibrating voice. “We have been betrayed by our own people!” ze hisses. “Doing nothing but going about our business.”

Khan suppresses a shiver and waits for further explanations, mentally reviewing everything he has read about the S’Wajay and hoping that this is all that they have in common.

“And then they changed the _laws_ …” ze says the word as if it is an insult, “… forcing us to…” ze smiles wickedly, “… adapt.”

The Trade and Profit Guild, Khan remembers, and he is immediately glad that his initial assessment has been correct, and he is not facing what basically could be an earlier version of himself. Even at his worst, he would not have dismissed the death of one of his own as these people do. This attack is not about freedom or protection. It is simple greed.  
And as Khan knows, it has been the reason for a long time. The Trade and Profit Guild had started to abuse its power and control over the planet, decades ago, leaving millions in poverty and starved. When the people rioted and demanded a change in government, they succeeded.  
Khan can only assume that, while these people may have been something akin to state-sanctioned pirates at some point, they are no longer that.  
“And I assume you wish to use this ship to convince your government to… reconsider.” He does not add what that would entail. Power imbalance, hunger and death, once more.

“Precisely,” ze gurgles.

Now that Khan knows who he is dealing with, he accordingly schools his features.  
“I see. Well,” he shrugs and moves from the glass, nonchalantly, “you won’t be able to. The ship will self-destruct if you attempt to take over the controls.”

The gurgles become decidedly impatient and unfriendly. “The captain will have to cooperate, as well!”

Khan chuckles and turns to look at the pirate. “The captain can also initiate a number of security protocols once on the bridge, and you will not know what has been done, until it is too late.”

The S’Wajay scowls at him, which makes hir skin tint grey.

“And, I assume, you could not yet identify the captain?”

The S’Wajay tilts hir head absurdly far to the side. “We have… methods to convince the crew to give up the identity of your captain.”

Khan nods in mock-thought. “And absolutely no way of knowing that he won’t betray you when given half a chance.”

The fan behind the pirate’s head flares, again, for a second. “We will simply have to find someone to bypass that security clearance.”

It’s hardly possible, at this point, Khan knows. Nothing can be done without Kirk on the bridge without weeks of mechanical work; definitely not what Khan has in mind…  
He spreads his arms. “I am just a lowly prisoner,” he says, sardonically. “I have no clearance to open so much as a can of peaches.”

The pirate once more steps closer to the glass. “Then what use are you to me?” ze growls.

Khan shrugs, again, smiles disarmingly and flops down on the bed in the corner. He regrets the last action the moment he performs it, as a sharp pain shoots from his back, making his legs tingle and his knees give out. He manages to breathe through it and mask it as simple annoyance.  
“None whatsoever.”  
He realises after a second that his leg movement is not restricted, but his back is definitely in no state for anything other than standing and careful walking.

The pirate fluffs hir shoulders, spins on hir heels and struts out. “Get the prisoner out of the cell and bring him to the cargo bay!” ze barks.

The pirate guards have no issue with opening the cell, and two of them grab Khan by his arms and haul him to his feet. This time, it is decidedly harder to ignore the pain, but he manages to keep up with the large steps of his capturers’ long, spindly legs and disguises his grimace of pain as an angry scowl.

They drag him through the empty corridors towards the cargo bay. None of the pirates are in sight. They must be waiting for further instructions to either destroy the ship or take over the bridge.  
Khan expects them to be watching the prisoners, still. They need the captain to circumvent the lockdown. They need to know how to play the captain. They… need someone willing to betray him.  
He is just going to have to show them what a person like that might look like.

The pirate captain struts ahead, never looking back whether or not hir people bring along Khan. Ze doesn’t have to.

As expected, there are more guards outside the cargo bay. Khan isn’t yet sure whether they have managed to enter engineering, or if they even think that it would do any good before they have control over the bridge.

The door to the cargo area opens for the pirate captain, and Khan scans the room the moment he is inside. Given the number of pirates (and their state of irritation and agitation because of the delay), he finds it likely that they are probably not in engineering or near the bridge.

The Enterprise crew members are huddled on the floor in large groups and near the walls, and those who can look up when he is being brought inside. Some of them are tied up, others unconscious. 

Khan finds the eyes of McCoy who has managed to reach his destination and is allowed to treat the injured for the time being along with the few of his staff that are present and unharmed.  
The whole crew is not here, however, and Khan can feel anger boil hotter, before he forces it down. He knows that the crew is kept alive because the pirates still need the ship’s captain and the security that the ship is in their hands.

They drag Khan to the middle where everyone can see him, and the pirate captain fluffs in front of him.

“Well, now… _Khan_ ,” ze purrs the name, which sends an icy shiver down Khan’s spine. “We will see whether or not these _Humans_ treat their prisoners well enough to ensure their loyalty.” Ze sounds and looks very much like ze doesn’t believe that this is the case and grabs Khan’s chin with spindly fingers to make him look up.

Khan straightens proudly and doesn’t give hir the satisfaction of reacting to the treatment. He huffs.  
“Your boasting is neither effective nor necessary, _pirate_.”

The pirate strikes him across the face, and Khan’s back screams in agony at the sudden jolt.

Khan has expected that reaction, but he knows that he mustn’t appear too eager to help the pirates, even if he is miming the prisoner.

The pirate struts away from Khan and looks around the room. “Is the captain in this room, Khan?”

Khan doesn’t immediately reply.

“You could gain your freedom…” the pirate coaxes.

Khan huffs, again. “Out of the hands of someone who treats me well and into the hands of mercenaries who leave their dead to lie where they fall with no care.”

The pirate is in front of him within the blink of an eye. “No. It is either death or _possible_ death,” ze says, sweetly.

Khan thinks that this is probably enough of a threat for him to credibly give in. Not that he is going to give up the captain, of course. He just needs to get the captain to the bridge… And he knows just the person to convince the pirates of that.

“Well, then…” Khan says, smarmily. “I believe our cooperation must come to an end. Captain Sulu.”  
He lifts his head, looking Sulu straight in the eyes, hoping that the man can put on his game face even without preparation time.

Sulu – who obviously doesn’t need preparation time at all – lifts his head, defiantly, and stares back with hard eyes.  
“I will not forget your betrayal, Khan,” he says, his voice as captainly as Khan remembers it being from the first time he’s ever heard it. Sulu stands, proudly. “After everything we have done for you!”

Immediately, Sulu is surrounded by greedy S’Wajay who look like they have caught the taste of impending blood in the air, two of which grab both his arms.

The pirate captain struts over to Sulu. “You will grant us entry to the bridge…”

“I told you,” Khan interrupts him, “if you let the captain so much as touch the consoles on the bridge, he can activate a number of emergency protocols that you won’t be able to counter with your focus on first-strike tactics.”  
And he is now sure more than ever that the pirates _do_ rely on the first strike, or they wouldn’t all sit around here, not knowing what to do until they can blackmail someone to let them on the bridge.

The pirate scowls at him for the interruption.

Khan continues, undeterred. “Since, apparently, you managed to get him off the bridge by sheer dumb luck in the first place.”

The pirate’s fan flares, briefly, but ze obviously does not deem Khan worth losing hir composure over in front of the enemy captain.  
Ze directs hir sickly sweet voice at Khan, again. “Well, then, Khan, since you have betrayed this crew, I am sure that you will help us defeat them to save your own skin.”

Khan gives an impressive impression of someone deflating in defeat.

“Won’t you?”

Khan hesitates and shares an almost heart-breaking look with Sulu.

Sulu catches on, as expected. “Don’t do it, Khan!”

Khan, naturally, does it, anyway. “You need a technician who would be likely to give you the access you wish in exchange for the captain’s life.”

The pirate grabs Sulu’s chin this time, but keeps hir eyes on Khan. “And who would you suggest?” Ze squints at Sulu to keep track of his reaction, and Sulu doesn’t disappoint.

Khan breathes, deeply. “Perhaps Chekov or Uhura,” he says, finally, and with enough hesitation to make the pirate suspicious.

The pirate falls for it, hook, line and sinker. “But…?” ze prompts.

Sulu dramatically shakes his head in the pirate’s grasp and sends Khan an absolutely beautiful pleading look.

Khan holds his breath and then rushes out. “Go for Kirk. He shares a… _connection_ with the captain.” He adds enough of an undertone to the _‘connection’_ to make the pirates salivate at the blackmail potential.

The pirate captain gurgles and half-turns to tilt hir head at Khan. “And who is this… Kirk?”

Sulu struggles in his captors’ hold. “You damn bastard pretended to be his friend!”

“ _I_ pretended?” Khan protests, sounding quite distraught. “I was nothing but your prisoner! You ordered your doctor to operate on my back, just to control me!”

The pirate captain greedily gurgles some more, visibly amused.

“I tried,” Sulu argues right back. “I gave you one chance after the other. Now see where it brought me and my crew!”

“It is my right to try and survive!”

“Enough!” the pirate captain hisses, apparently having been amused enough. “Where is Kirk?”

Khan crestfallen lowers his eyes before looking up, once more, his eyes finding Kirk who is among the group with McCoy. “Next to the doctor. Wearing a black shirt.”

Kirk is apprehended within seconds, protesting wide-eyed.

Khan thinks that the lot of them deserve some sort of award for that performance, but then again, they _are_ in an extreme situation, and trying this trick only marginally evens out their odds.

Sulu struggles some more. “There’s not much I can do from the bridge, anyway,” he tries to reason, desperately. “You’ve damaged the ship too much during your attack. We’ll have to fix that from engineering, first.”

The pirate captain is unimpressed, as – so Khan assumes – was Sulu’s intention.  
“We do not need _you_ to do anything at all, Captain. And we never had the intention to destroy this useful vessel.” Ze tilts hir head. “My people have taken care of the damage for the time being.”

Khan can see Scotty readying himself to jump up and being held back by the people next to him. Clearly, he does not like anyone tinkering with his lady.  
Just as clearly, Khan has underestimated the S’Wajay’s number, if the claim is true and there are pirates in engineering.  
On the upside, if they have indeed fixed what must have been damaged during the attack, this means that there should be something they can do once on the bridge without any additional difficulties of side-stepping damaged systems.

The pirate captain gurgles and turns back towards the door. “If you are cooperative, Captain, I’ll let your crew live, and if your Kirk cooperates, I might even let _you_ live.”

Khan’s fingers twitch when Kirk is being pulled towards and past him with Sulu, the three of them being dragged out of the cargo bay.

Kirk’s face is a mask of anger when he speaks. “I will never forget what you did today, and I will not allow anyone else to forget it, either.”

The walking sends throbs up and down Khan’s spine, and he’s not sure if the lessened piercing pain is a good or a bad sign. He knows that his body can heal a lot, given enough time, but he has the feeling that, after all of this, he will be in need of some more of their doctor’s tender care.  
He carefully controls his expression, as not to let Kirk know about his (substantial but bearable) pain and worry.  
“We always knew it would come to this, sooner or later, didn’t we, Kirk?”

Kirk gets pushed ahead, his captors apparently not interested in squabble, but he still manages to say, “I guess I hoped it wouldn’t have to.”

 

Once they reach the door to the bridge, the pirate captain barks, “Bring Kirk up front!”

Khan watches Kirk’s body language and hopes that the deception will come more easily to him than he fears. Kirk is not naturally deceptive; though his natural playfulness might come in handy in its stead.

“Open the door, Kirk,” the pirate captain demands as Kirk is being shoved next to the controls.

The pirates holding Sulu drag him closer as well, while Khan is watching everything from the back.

“Don’t do it, Jim,” Sulu pleads.

The pirate captain leans down to hiss into Kirk’s ear. “This is the only chance that you, your crew and your captain will come out of this alive, Kirk. The ship is not worth all those lives…”

“Think of the Prime Directive,” Sulu reasons. “You know what they’ll use the Enterprise for if we let them have her!”

The pirate captain tilts hir head towards Sulu. “Shut him up!”

One of Sulu’s captors holds Sulu still while the other hits him, making his head swivel to the side and his temple bleed. He doesn’t pass out, but he squeezes his eyes shut.

“No!” Kirk immediately yells, pulling at his captors’ strong hold. “Look,” he says, frantically, “this isn’t worth it, Hikaru. It’s not. This planet isn’t our concern! It’s their own damn fault that they never took care of their past properly!”

Sulu weakly shakes his head, while Khan is relieved to hear that his conclusion about the Trade and Profit Guild had been correct.

“Jim, we’re explorers. This isn’t a war ship!”

Kirk’s jaw sets. “Sorry,” he says, sounding every bit like he does when he wants to do something reckless or seemingly stupid that Spock disagrees with, and Khan finds himself buying the performance.

With a few touches of Kirk’s fingers, the bridge door opens, and the pirate captain’s eyes shine with greed when ze enters ahead of all.

Khan controls his breathing, forcing his excitement down to a less perceptible level. The pirates should be too excited themselves or at least not trained enough to notice such nuances, though. Not in an alien species they have never encountered before.

If Kirk will use the emergency protocol that Khan has in mind, that would still leave the three of them on the bridge with seven very tall, very strong and soon very angry aliens. He curses himself for not having included a scenario such as this one in his emergency concepts. But, at the time, they all thought it safer to not include the bridge in any such protocols, to minimise the risk of abuse. Even emergency protocols are potentially open for being used by someone through a loophole. Security is only as secure as the threats you already know, and they _are_ in unchartered space…  
If they get out of this, they will probably reconsider this position.

The pirate captain immediately goes for the captain’s chair and sits. The downside of that chair is that – while you can certainly oversee the bridge and the view screen – the controls are definitely out of sight for those who are unfamiliar with them.  
“Bring the captain to me, but keep Khan by the door. We wouldn’t want him have a change of heart and interfere.”

Khan keeps the distance to where emergency weapons are stowed in mind, and has already found the likeliest spot to quickly take out their tall, strong and angry captors.

The two S’Wajay holding Kirk bring him to the station Chekov usually occupies and sit him down, and Khan captures Sulu’s eyes. Near imperceptively, he moves his fingers and points at the numerous joints that attach the S’Wajay’s legs to their torsos. The legs move in a fluid way, which means that their particular mobility also presents a weak spot.

Sulu blinks, slowly, deliberately, then he keeps an eye on Kirk’s controls, which he can read by Kirk’s hand movements alone, unlike the S’Wajay.

“Remember, Kirk,” the pirate captain says, “if you attempt to trick me, your captain will die.”

Kirk shakes off the S’Wajay’s hands that are holding him, which they allow, but they remain standing by his side. He tilts his head to the side, but refuses to look at the pirate sitting is _his_ goddamn chair!  
“If the captain dies, I’m stopping, and you won’t get anyone else with the necessary clearance level to help you. Not against the captain’s standing order.”  
He shares a look with Sulu, which, had the pirates paid any attention to such details, would have been completely out of character. He still needs to know if Sulu can take care of his situation, once the pirates realise that something has gone wrong. And Kirk knows damn well that they will…

The pirate captain appears unconcerned and waves a bored hand in Kirk’s general direction. “Restore bridge control and transfer it to me.”

“It’s not that easy, okay?!” Kirk protests and starts the console, nonetheless, which bleeps at the attempt, letting them know that bridge control is not accessible.  
“Restore emergency bridge control. Authorisation Kirk. One-Two-Five-Eight-Nine.”

 _“Awaiting input,”_ the computer informs him.

Kirk’s fingers slide over the controls.

_“Scan in progress. Scan complete.”_

Kirk enters another command and holds his breath.

_“Emergency protocol executed.”_

The pirate captain leans forward in hir seat. “What was that? Is it done?”

Kirk, Sulu and Khan have no delusions about anyone making it from cargo bay to the bridge in time…

Kirk sends Sulu another look, and Sulu wastes no time dislodging the hold of his captors, twisting and aiming straight for the hips, one after the other, with kicks.

Kirk dodges the phaser fire from the pirate captain who has obviously decided that trusting the words of these officers is no longer advised. The console goes up in flames, but Kirk remains unharmed.

Khan’s mobility is severely limited, which one of his captors unfortunately is alert enough to notice. Khan manages to twist out of their hold, causing a painful jolt in his back, and has one of them falling to the floor unarmed… Khan uses the acquired weapon to fire at one of the pirates who attack Kirk, but then his second captor makes use of Khan’s restrictive movements and goes straight for the weak spot with hir foot.

There is another sharp pain to Khan’s back, and he crumbles like a doll with its strings cut. After only a second, he realises that the pain radiates upwards, but not downwards, and he can no longer move his lower body.  
Not having any time to worry, he twists his upper body away from another blow of the pirate above him, before that one falls, as well.

Khan turns back to see that, apparently, Kirk has landed that shot, but now, they are all three once more unarmed, Sulu is unconscious but breathing, and the pirate captain is still standing and rushing over to Kirk, threateningly, grabbing him by his collar and hauling him to his feet.

“So good to meet you, _Captain_ ,” the pirate hisses and pushes Kirk down onto the console.

Kirk scowls at hir. “Our system has just transported everyone who is not part of this crew into the brig and locked them in. My people will be here within a minute,” he says, steadily, despite of his situation. “What do you want? Do you expect me to beg?”

“No, Mister Kirk. I expect you to die.” Hir fan flares and ze bends hir legs to lean closer over Kirk, while hir cold fingers grab Kirk’s neck.

Khan estimates that it’s perhaps another thirty seconds before their crew members manage to get to the bridge, which might well be too late. The weapon of the S’Wajay next to him on the floor that Kirk has incapacitated is out of reach, and he can hardly move.  
He can see it, however, and thinks that he will just have to face McCoy’s wrath (or perhaps even learn about the limits of his healing abilities if he is particularly unlucky) for the move he has in mind, but…  
He twists his upper body with all the considerable strength he possesses, groaning at the pain and makes a grab at the weapon. He twists back and can still look the pirate captain who has turned hir head into the eyes before he fires.

Kirk shoves the pirate off himself, his wide eyes on Khan who collapses breathlessly. He sees Sulu stir and shake his head, thankfully, so that he doesn’t have to decide whom to tend to, first.  
He darts to Khan and kneels by his side, but still looks behind him for a second.  
“Sulu, can you make sure they all stay down?”

Sulu groans but gets to his feet with a determined expression. “You can bet your ass, Captain.”

Kirk cups the side of Khan’s face with one hand. “Don’t move. We’ll get you to medical in a sec, alright?” He doesn’t ask whether or not Khan is in pain and whether or not he can move his legs. The answers are frighteningly obvious.

Khan blinks instead of giving a nod. “Everything will be alright, James. Do not fret.”

Kirk looks vaguely insulted at the term _‘fret’_ in such a situation.

“Doctor McCoy has performed larger miracles,” Khan adds.

Kirk’s startlingly blue eyes glisten, traitorously, and then the door bursts open and the security storms in.  
“McCoy! Get McCoy!” Kirk doesn’t waste a second to yell.

Some of the officers leave the bridge again, assumingly to get the doctor who would not have been far behind, while the others confirm the death of the present pirates.

Khan just smiles, entirely unconcerned. “And you are safe. As is the crew and the ship.”

Kirk leans closer. “I meant it, you know. I won’t forget this, and I won’t let anyone else forget it.”

“I know, James.”

McCoy rushes onto the bridge and crouches by his patient’s side with a tricorder in his hand.  
“Goddammit, Khan!” he rants while running the scanner over his back, studying the readings. “Couldn’t you have gotten rid of that stupid goddamn back brace sooner, you goddamn stubborn bastard?” He frowns, frantically. “Shit. I need a site-to-site transport to sick bay.”

Kirk stands. “I’ll do it from the transporter room. The station here’s fried, and most controls are still under lockdown.”

“Sit your ass back down, _Captain_!” McCoy barks. “You’re not to leave here before everything’s under control and you damn well know it.” He grumbles under his breath when Kirk realises what he’s just said and sits back down, looking at Khan who seems inappropriately amused.

“McCoy to Scott!”

_“Scott here, Doctor.”_

“I need you to get to the transporter room and transport Mister Singh directly to sick bay.”

_“Stand by.”_

Kirk rubs his face. “Can you fix him?”

Despite the urgency, McCoy doesn’t look particularly worried. “If he wasn’t who he is, his back might get a fifty-fifty chance. As it is… I’m more optimistic.” He frowns at Khan who turns his head to look at him. “If he doesn’t move any more!”

Khan grins, weakly. “Apologies, Doctor.”

 _“Ready,”_ Scott reports.

McCoy leans back from Khan and signs Kirk to do the same. “I need him on an operating table in the exact same position he’s in, now,” he instructs Scott.

 _“Done,”_ Scott confirms, and Khan dissolves, keeping his eyes on Kirk for as long as he can.

McCoy remains where he is for a moment longer. “He’ll probably be fine, Jim.” He puts a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “Take care of the ship, her crew, the prisoners and those useless idiots on the planet’s surface. Then you can come by to check on him.”

Kirk clears his throat, and they both stand.

“Alright?”

“Yeah. It’s just… you didn’t see him fall.”

“No… but I can imagine it. He probably fell like a house of cards, given those readings,” he says, lifting the tricorder. Then, seeing the tortured expression on Kirk’s face, he smiles, ruefully and claps his arm. “I’ll fix him,” he says, decisively and leaves.

 

McCoy finds Khan still alone in sick bay and calls every one of his staff who is not tending to injured crew members to join him, then he steps up to the operating table.

Khan blinks, calmly.

“Alright,” McCoy begins, “we have to clean up this pig sty before we can safely operate.”

Khan expects the doctor to ask if he would like a painkiller until they are ready for him. This is an offer he definitely would not refuse, at this point. But it’s not what McCoy tells him.

“I’d like to put you under until then to make sure you don’t move and don’t have to bear the pain. We have to work around you, and it would be safer.”

Two nurses and Doctor Marcus (who definitely knows enough about the tech to assist) enter behind them, and they both briefly look up, before McCoy finishes his offer.

“Alright?”

Khan blinks, again, in lieu of a nod. “Whatever you think is best, Doctor.”

McCoy leans closer. “That was quite a twist you must have performed, earlier…” Much to Khan’s surprise, he doesn’t sound as grumpily accusing as he normally would.

“The captain was about to be killed.”

McCoy’s lip twitches. “Yeah. I figured it must have been something like that, given the readings.” He smiles. “Thank you.”

“It was entirely selfish, I assure you.”

McCoy huffs, amused. He wouldn’t like to live in a universe without Jim, either. He approves of the altruistic kind of selfishness… Even Spock would probably agree in this case.  
“Sleep well, Mister Singh.”

And Khan does, hoping for a less eventful morning, this time around.

 


	10. Undivided

There is only a low light on when Kirk enters sick bay at the end of the (stupidly long) day, and Khan is lying on a bed, deeply asleep. He is lying on his back, which makes Kirk release his breath and relax some more. McCoy’s report has been uplifting, but it’s still not the same as seeing something with your own eyes.

One nurse is still working to the side, and he nods at her when she looks up, keeping his silence to not wake the patient, then he heads for McCoy’s office where there is another source of light. He enters and closes the door behind him.

McCoy looks up from what appears to be Khan’s surgery protocol, leans back in his seat and grins, self-satisfied.  
“Everything ship-shape?”

Kirk’s lip twitches, though exhausted he might be, and takes a seat facing McCoy.  
“Yeah. The S’Wajay government is falling over themselves to grovel and profusely apologise and thank us for our assistance.”

McCoy huffs. “I guess they’re just going to feign ignorance at the fact that they let us run into an open knife in the hopes we would take care of their problem.”

“The pirates will stand trial, and the whole damn planet owes us, big time, so... All’s well that ends well, I guess.” He sends McCoy a look. “All _is_ well, right?”

McCoy grins. “He’s going to be perfectly fine.”

Kirk lets go of the last bit of tension.

“I’m just keeping him asleep for the rest of the night. He shouldn’t move, and, frankly, he needs the rest.”

Kirk nods, visibly tired, then looks through the glass to watch the sleeping figure for a moment.

“Can I ask you a question?” McCoy interrupts Kirk’s musings.

Kirk returns to look at McCoy, immediately suspicious of the barely hidden smug expression.

“Did you fall for it? Even just a little?” McCoy asks, and he doesn’t have to say what he’s asking about. Kirk knows quite well.

And Kirk immediately smiles.  
“Not for an instant,” he says. Not even for the blink of an eye did he believe that Khan would betray them to the pirates, and he can’t deny that he’s proud of it.

McCoy smirks. “Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

Kirk tilts his head. “Did you hesitate to give him the power to turn his back on us?”

McCoy looks as proud as Kirk feels. “No.”

Kirk’s smile widens, and he looks through the glass, some more.  
“I’m kind of relieved,” he admits. “I mean, I knew that I trusted him, knew that he was my friend and that I would stand by him... But it’s still good to know that I never doubted him for a second.”

“Yeah...” McCoy had been thinking something similar, earlier. “Did you further Spock’s suggestion to Starfleet HQ?”

Kirk nods, still smiling, this time at McCoy. “Thanks for signing it.”

“No problem. But, Jim...” he adds, making Kirk tilt his head, “... _I’m_ your friend.” He points out the window with his thumb. “ _Khan_ is something else.”

Kirk freezes for a brief moment, studying McCoy’s amused expression. Then he breathes out with a sardonic smile.  
“That obvious?”

McCoy’s smirk turns smugger. “Any more obvious, and you’d be walking around with cartoon hearts for eyes.”

Kirk rolls his (blue and not heart-shaped, thank you) eyes.

“Actually, scratch that,” McCoy adds. “You should have seen yourself on the bridge when he was down. _Definitely_ cartoon hearts.”

Kirk rubs his face and can’t help but smile, ruefully. He’s too tired to argue the point.

“He’s as obvious as you are, by the way.”

Kirk’s eyes dart to McCoy, whose eyes widen in return.

McCoy leans forward. “You can’t tell me that this comes as a surprise to you,” he demands, incredulously.

“No, I... I guess not. It’s just...” He breathes out the breath he doesn’t need to finish the sentence.

McCoy does a head-shake-shrug movement and holds out his hands, wordlessly expressing _‘What?’_

It fails to make Kirk smile, as he’s already thinking about all the things that have kept him from just pulling Khan into the nearest corner and kiss him silly. He’s the captain, Khan belongs to his crew, there’s a chain of command to consider, their formidable work relationship, and...  
“He’s worked too hard for his place on this ship. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

“That, what? That he’s the captain’s favourite?”

Kirk scowls at him, which fails entirely in making the doctor lose his infuriating smirk.

McCoy’s expression softens. “Jim... _you_ didn’t initiate the request to Starfleet, today. _Spock_ did, and all senior officers agreed. Hell, the whole _ship_ would agree if you asked them.”

Kirk has to smile, again. “They would, wouldn’t they...” he agrees, absently. Entirely without his consent, his eyes wander to the glass and the sleeping man beyond.  
Then he remembers the comfortable friendship he shares with Khan. Chess, wine and Moonraker... He sighs and lowers his gaze.  
“I just don’t wanna fuck this up.”

McCoy raises an eyebrow. “Shy. You?”

Kirk wants to scowl at him, but McCoy’s expression makes him snort in amusement.  
“Well, what if I suddenly came on to you, then? That’d be fucking weird,” he argues.

“Not the same thing.”

“No?”

“No,” McCoy immediately replies, firmly. “I’m not in love with you.” Kirk stares at him with such uncharacteristically wide eyes that he groans and rubs his face.  
“Christ, I need a drink.” He doesn’t get up to get himself one, though. He just studies Kirk who – unsurprisingly – once more looks out the window.

Eventually, Kirk clears his throat and returns McCoy’s look.  
“I’ll wait for an answer from HQ. Then we’ll see.”

McCoy nods, slowly, looking less than impressed with that suggestion. “Sensible.”

Kirk narrows his eyes at him. “I hate you.”

McCoy just smirks. “I could grace that with an answer, but I really don’t think that I have to.”

It makes Kirk grin. Damn. He’s really too tired for this.

“Go to bed, Jim,” McCoy finally says, almost without any remaining smugness. “He’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Kirk stands. “Alright.” Then he remembers something. “Don’t go telling him what you told me, though...”

McCoy smirks, again. “Already did that,” he says, nonchalantly.

Kirk swivels around to stare at him. “You _what_?”

McCoy puts on a mock-serious face. “Doctor-patient confidentiality. I couldn’t possibly tell you.”

“I really do hate you.”

“Good _night_... _James_ ,” McCoy says with good-natured finality. When Kirk refuses to leave and just keeps staring at him, he adds, “Give me _some_ credit, will you? I wouldn’t stab you in the back.”

Kirk does know that.

“Get some sleep. Deal with Starfleet, tomorrow, and then you can come and see how he’s doing.”

Kirk points at McCoy. “I’m gonna ask him what you told him...”

McCoy just smirks, again. “Feel free.”

Kirk realises that to ask Khan that, he would have to breach the topic in the first place, so he doesn’t add to that comment and just turns to leave. “Say hi to Carol from me.”

As far as comebacks go, that one was abysmally lame. McCoy decides to just let it slide. Also, Kirk stands for a long moment in the outer room to watch Khan sleep some more, so he kind of thinks that Kirk’s suffered enough.

Though, if this takes much longer, he will soon feel the need to interfere as Kirk’s very good friend.  
Last he heard, Uhura and Sulu were conspiring to send Kirk and Khan anonymous flowers, and he has the suspicion that Spock knows about it. When this ship doesn’t face mortal peril, the crew comes up with the most ridiculous ideas...

But given the cartoon eyes on the bridge, he might not have to interfere, after all.

*

Khan wakes, once, in the middle of the night and blinks his eyes open with a deep sigh. He doesn’t dare to move too much, as any type of movement was excruciatingly painful before he had fallen asleep, but one small flick of his feet shows him that the procedure must have been successful.

He smiles, thankful and relieved.

Nurse Stephens, who is in charge of the night shift, walks into his line of vision and bends over him. “Are you in any pain?” she asks, softly to not break the restful silence.

Khan hasn’t felt any pain, just now, but he surreptitiously flexes several sets of muscles to see if there is a negative response. Still careful, he shakes his head.  
“No.”

“Doctor McCoy doesn’t want you to move too much until he’s back in the morning. Can you sleep some more on your own, or would you like a mild sedative?”

Khan can feel that his mind is waking, one step at a time, analysing what has happened, what was likely to have happened after he lost consciousness... and he comes to the conclusion that he would probably not fall asleep again.  
“The situation is under control?” he can’t help but ask.

Stephens nods. “Yes.”

Some of his already busy thoughts are put to rest. Still...  
“I believe it might be easier to sleep with a sedative,” he admits.

She administers it, and only as his eyes fall closed does he realise that – while there certainly is still some amount of pain – there has been no accusation in her solemn gaze.

*

When he wakes next, there is some more light, and he can hear several hushed voices and the sounds of people working.

Before he even opens his eyes, he rubs his face with a hand that still feels somewhat lethargic for a moment.

“Ah, Mister Singh. Good morning,” McCoy greets him, and Khan blinks at him.

Khan breathes deeply and is relieved to notice that there is no twinge of even so much as discomfort.  
“Good morning, Doctor.”

“And how is the hero of the hour feeling?” McCoy asks, smirking.

Khan raises an eyebrow. “That hour must be over, by now, surely?”

McCoy huffs. “Not in the least. You should hear the rumours. At this point, you’ve probably taken out the whole crew of pirates, boarded the enemy ship, brought about universal peace and sailed away into the sunset, all of which without the use of your legs.”

Khan laughs. “That is not quite how I remember it. There was a distinct lack of sunsets.”

McCoy grins at him and steps back. “Can you sit?”

Khan gingerly does so and carefully swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Good?”

Khan nods. “I feel no pain.”

“Any numbness or tingling?”

Khan swings his legs a bit and shakes his head. “No.”

McCoy nods. “Alright. I want you to stay here, get up and get dressed, walk around a bit and have breakfast. Then I’ll scan you again. Just to make sure.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Khan says and stands. Though he’s still doing so very carefully, as if he doesn’t quite trust his body for the first time in his life.

 

An hour later finds him sitting on the bed, again – dressed but topless – and at the mercy of McCoy’s scanner.

“Lean forward a bit. Bend your back and relax.”

Khan does so and breathes as one of McCoy’s hands on his back directs how far he should bend. The hand also applies pressure on several points, assumingly to test reactions or potential pain.

“If you feel anything out of place, let me know.”

Khan hums.

McCoy’s hand moves to Khan’s shoulder. “Please sit up straight, again.” He moves the scanner over the back, once more.  
“You are so damn lucky with your DNA...”

Khan looks over his shoulder. “Am I free to leave, then?”

“Not quite,” McCoy scowls at him for even suggesting it without waiting for his diagnosis, first. He reaches for Khan’s shoulder with both hands. “Your spine is fine...” he begins and digs into his trapezius muscle.

Khan grunts.

“Now _this_ spot on the other hand...” He smacks Khan’s upper arm when he grunts again. “Lie on your stomach. Your body needs to recover, properly, freaky DNA or not, and it can’t do that when there’s this much tension from moving your body unnaturally, as you did yesterday.”  
He warms some oil between his hands and sets out to work on the tense muscles.

Khan is far from protesting when McCoy works his magic.  
“I did not know that you were an expert in this field, Doctor...” he can’t help but tease.

“I am a medical professional. I can massage out a few kinks.”

Khan groans, again, and still sees absolutely no reason to protest. None. He just melts into the bed in a puddle of slowly relaxing goo.

“I want you to take it easy for two days,” McCoy says, calmly while he works. “Then you can start with a light training regime, and another massage definitely wouldn’t go amiss. There are several among the medical staff who have the training.”

Khan sighs. “And what did I do to earn the chief medical officer massaging my back?”

McCoy pauses long enough for Khan to open his eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Khan blinks.

McCoy shakes his head and takes up his task, again. “I know you’re not an idiot. So I’m going to take your inability to follow even the most elementary chain of thought as a compliment to my massage skills.”

Muddled brain or not, Khan knows a _‘thank you’_ when he hears one and accepts it, silently.  
Eventually, he can feel the tense muscles soften, and he only sighs every now and again by the time the door opens and Kirk strides in.

Kirk steps closer to the bed to greet them. “Good morning,” he says, tilting his head sideways to grin at Khan.

“Good morning, Captain,” Khan says, while McCoy finishes his massage and wipes Khan’s skin with a towel.

“How is our patient?” Kirk wants to know.

McCoy puts away the towel and motions Khan to sit up, again. “He’s perfectly fine, very unlike someone without his healing ability would have been...”  
He touches the shoulders again, pressing lightly. “Hm. Better,” is his verdict.

Khan turns his head to look at him. “May I get dressed?”

McCoy looks for the shirt to hand it to him, while Kirk walks over to a terminal.

“I’ll be right with you, again,” Kirk says, a small, mischievous smile playing around his lips. “I have to do a broadcast.”

Khan nods with a curious frown and puts on his shirt. McCoy behind him appears to know what the message will be about, which makes Khan wonder what else he has missed while being asleep.

“Attention, crew of the Enterprise,” Kirk begins, and everyone in the room straightens a bit to listen. “I believe it will come as no surprise to you that after the events of yesterday and the outstanding actions of crewmember Singh, Commander Spock has approached me with a petition signed by all senior officers to award Mister Singh the rank of lieutenant.”

Khan pulls his dark shirt the rest of the way down his torso and stares at Kirk who smirks at him.

“I have gladly added my own signature to that petition and sent it to Starfleet Headquarters to be reviewed.” He squares his shoulders, standing proud, never taking his eyes off Khan.  
“And as of oh-nine-hundred hours this morning, that request has been approved by Starfleet.”

Khan can feel his heart hammer in his throat. He has... done it. He has honestly, truly... done it. He has gained the captain’s and the crew’s and even Starfleet’s approval. Their trust. In mere _years_. Not decades or a lifetime. Just years.  
And he has gained his own approval and trust, which is most likely the bigger accomplishment.

Kirk’s expression grows warmer.  
“Congratulations, Lieutenant.” He closes the connection and smirks when a nurse brings him the blue shirt he has apparently been hiding in a drawer for this very moment. Kirk takes it and walks up to Khan who is still staring.  
Kirk holds the shirt, looks at it and runs a thumb over the blue material before he lifts his head to smile at Khan.  
“I believe this is yours.”

Khan wants to say _‘James’_ , but the words won’t come, so he just moves his lips.

Kirk’s smile doesn’t waver. “You deserved it a dozen times over.”

Khan moves a hand as if to reach for the shirt, and he doesn’t think he’s doing anything else, until the hand does not touch blue material, but instead cups the back of Kirk’s neck and pulls him into a kiss, making both of them moan, softly, the moment their lips touch.

There is no moment of shock or hesitation; Kirk responds to the kiss immediately, the blue shirt falling from his fingers, which are suddenly much too busy holding onto the black shirt on Khan’s body.

It feels as if time is stopping; except it’s not, it’s just catching up with them, having been lagging behind for years.

They slowly break the kiss, once it threatens to develop a mind of its own and deepen in front of the whole medical crew. Both their breathing is harsher than it has any right to be after just one short kiss, and they open their eyes at the same time, smiling widely.

Kirk leans his forehead against Khan’s who is still holding him close and breathes a happy laugh before stealing another kiss.

McCoy’s voice breaks the spell (that, truth to be told, has lasted less than half a minute, really) by telling Kirk, “That looks much more pleasant than the last time he was sitting on that bed with you standing in front of him.” That must have been a lifetime ago, anyway...

Kirk breaks the kiss, groaning and rolling his eyes, but he stays as close as before.

Khan chuckles.

The vibration of the chuckle under Kirk’s hands and the breath against his lips makes him shiver.  
Still... “You know how to kill a mood, Bones,” he complains.

“So why don’t you take your mood and canoodling out of my sick bay?” McCoy replies, but when Kirk and Khan look towards him, he couldn’t look more pleased if he tried.

Kirk clears his throat, still grinning. “Right...” He returns to look at Khan, feeling somewhat ridiculous that he has fought this for so long, but mostly being as happy as Larry. Khan returns the look with pretty much the same expression, which makes a laugh gurgle out of him, and he can’t help but kiss the man, again.  
“Right,” he says again, once it ends, and he licks his lips.

“Right,” Khan replies, smirking.

Kirk tries his best to hold back the stupid grin that is probably already there, given that his cheeks practically hurt, and eventually just gives up and takes a deep breath.  
“Anyway,” he says, still grinning but straightening, reluctantly and leaving his hands where they are. “You’re wanted on the bridge, Lieutenant. Commander Spock would like to have your input on the S’Wajay for the final report.”

Khan tilts his head in acknowledgment, having similar issues to control his grin. “Of course, Captain.” He reaches for his blue shirt that is now lying on his thighs and pulls it over his head as he stands, then he smoothes the material over his torso, looking down and marvelling at the new view. When he lifts his head, Kirk is unsurprisingly still smiling at him. (As is everyone else, but his attention is undivided...)

“Blue looks good on you,” Kirk says, warmly, proudly, and this time, he has no reason to govern the expression of the affection he feels. But he is also still Kirk, so the warm smile soon becomes a smirk.  
“ _Damn_ good on you...”

“Enough already,” McCoy interrupts (before Kirk can dig up another one-liner) and steps next to Khan. He tries to keep on a serious face, he really does, but he can’t quite hold back a smile at the beaming expression on Khan’s face.  
“Now, I want you to take it easy for two days and then report back to me to check you over.”

Khan nods. “Yes, Doctor.”

“And if you feel any pain, numbness or tingling in your lower extremities, you get your ass back here, immediately. Got that?”

Before Khan can answer, Kirk takes a step forward with a mock-serious frown on his face.  
“ _Any_ tingling in his lower extremities?”

“Out!” McCoy bellows, pointing imperiously at the door. He can even hold back his laughter until the door closes behind those two (lucky) idiots.

 

Kirk is less restrained and laughs all the way out the door and into the corridor, while Khan just grins, widely.

As soon as they’re outside, and Kirk has briefly looked up and down the corridor, he reaches out with his hand, taking Khan’s. “Gimme...”

Khan doesn’t protest; he just looks pleasantly surprised (and perhaps a bit unsettled by his own reaction).

Kirk pulls him closer, and they walk a few steps towards the turbolift.  
“Shit,” Kirk whispers, staring at their joined hands. “I feel like a fucking teenager. This is ridiculous.” Apparently, it doesn’t feel ridiculous enough for him to not take another brief kiss. He’s unfamiliarly jittery and doesn’t really know what to do with himself, other than to just give in...  
This time, their kiss does deepen, and when their tongues touch for the first time, they both just want to drink it all in. So much so that they almost don’t hear the steps from around the corner in time.

They jump apart, just as a young ensign walks past them, both feeling like naughty schoolboys. Not that either of them has ever been that. Kirk was more like a handful of nightmares for his instructors, and Khan... well, he was something else entirely.

She smiles at them and nods, politely. “Captain, Lieutenant.”

They both return the greeting. “Ensign.”

Once she’s out of sight, Kirk takes Khan’s hand again, making him chuckle, and drags him to the lift. When they're inside, he stops it and rubs his face.  
“Hang on...” he says by way of an explanation, and Khan waits. “I really need a minute before I can sit on the bridge and even so much as pretend to work.”

Khan softly takes one of Kirk’s hands. “James...”

Kirk looks up. “Oh, hell...” is all he can say when he sees that beautiful face, so open and welcoming.

Khan pulls him into a slow, deep and reassuring kiss, holding him close.

The kiss ends naturally, and Kirk moves his lips from Khan’s to his cheek, kissing the skin softly. “You’re not helping, you know,” he complains, happily.

“Oh?” Khan doesn’t sound convinced.

Kirk grins against the warm skin. “Yeah, okay. It did help.” He leans back so he can look at him and gives him a brief kiss. Perhaps he just needed a moment alone with Khan for all these tumbling thoughts to settle.

“Does your offer of chess and wine after a successful surgery still stand?” Khan asks with a small quirk of lips.

“Hm,” Kirk hums in contemplation. “Or we could forego the chess,” he suggests. “If you’re amenable, that is...” It feels right to at least ask, though he doesn’t expect any other answer than the one Khan gives.

“I am very much amenable.”

They melt into another slow kiss, before Kirk sighs.

“Ready to face the world?” Kirk asks.

“When you are.”

Kirk steals a kiss because he can, clears his throat, straightens and gives the order for the turbolift to resume.

They share a smile before the door opens and then enter the bridge.

Spock is by their side in an instant. “Good morning, Captain. Lieutenant.”

Kirk’s grin is back in full force. “Good morning, Commander. And here is the brand-spanking new lieutenant, as requested,” he says.  
With that, he leaves them to their work (before he does something even less suited for an audience than in sick bay) and decides to attempt dealing with his own.

Khan nods at Spock. “Commander. Thank you for your consideration.”

“There is no need to thank me. The recommendation has been written a while back, and it was my intention to bring forth the motion at the next crew evaluations.” He tilts his head. “Waiting longer seemed culpably negligent, after yesterday.”

Khan feels a lump in his throat and looks over his shoulder at Kirk, who grins at him proudly and with a bright light in those stunning eyes. It takes every shred of self-control he has to not just march to the Captain’s chair and grab the man to show him how very much he loves him.  
Instead, he lets the feelings course through him, allows himself to enjoy the electrical current setting him alight and breathes it in.  
“As I said,” he repeats, returning to looking at Spock. “Thank you.”

Spock looks momentarily confused at Khan’s insistence on a repetition, then accepts it as a Human expression of gratitude that includes more than just the issue at hand. That sentiment he understands.  
He nods. “You are welcome.”

*

Kirk is in his room, fidgeting. They’ve all been working to clean up the mess left by the pirates (and the less destructive diplomatic mess with the S’Wajay) all day, and he’s only managed to share brief looks with Khan, if at all. He did have lunch while listening to Scotty’s damage report, even though he hadn’t been hungry, and there was that brief moment during which he could let Khan know that he would be waiting for him, once they were both done with work.

Which is now. He’s not had dinner, and he’s still not hungry, but he feels like he should at the very least offer something. Khan must surely be hungry, what with that freaky metabolism of his... Then again, Khan has mentioned on several occasions that he can go for long periods of time without either food or sleep if necessary.

Kirk opens the cupboard with the three bottles of wine he has left and decides that, just because Khan _can_ go without food, that doesn’t mean that he should, so he comms the mess for someone to bring him enough sandwiches for two. Then he curses himself for being so damn obvious... before he stops and stands in the middle of the room, suddenly amused at himself.

“Look at you...” he murmurs, shaking his head. He grins a bit and falls onto his couch, reminding himself that there isn’t anything to do wrong in this situation. He knows Khan, and Khan knows him, and he’s loved the man for god only knows how long.  
He leans his head back onto the headrest and grins, self-deprecatingly. Well, to be fair, this _is_ kind of a new territory for him. Not only is this a relationship he wants to make work, but he’s been working on making it work for years...

When his door chimes, he doesn’t panic, and he is even perfectly alright with it being a yeoman bringing him his sandwiches. He smiles at him.  
“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Captain.” He turns as if to leave and then pauses. “Captain?”

“Yes, Mister Ross?”

He hesitates. “Has Lieutenant Singh been released from sick bay?”

Kirk nods. “He has, yes, this morning. But he’s been on the bridge all day, so you probably haven’t seen him around.”

Ross is immediately relieved. “Ah. Good. We’ve been hearing the wildest stories all day, and we were beginning to get worried.”

Kirk smirks and wonders whether or not the story about sick bay from this morning has spread all through the ship, yet...  
“I’ve been hearing those stories, myself. And while some of them are exaggerating the events with the pirates slightly, let me assure you that the lieutenant’s actions were nothing short of spectacular.”

Ross is grinning widely. “Of that I had no doubt.”

Kirk sees some movement in the corner of his eye and turns to look. “Yes, we’re talking about you...” he says when Khan approaches them, apprehensive to interrupt the conversation.

Ross beams at him and holds out his hand that Khan takes. “Congratulations,” he says, enthusiastically. 

“Thank you.” Khan sounds like he’s been thanking many, many people during the course of the day, and like he still doesn’t really know what to do with himself, facing all that attention.

“About time, too.” Ross continues, and then he seems to realise what he’s said. “Not that I think that you should have promoted him, sooner, Captain.”

Kirk grins, ruefully. “You’d be right.” He smiles at Khan. “But I think we’re alright with the timing.” He very clearly is not only talking about the promotion.

Khan smiles back. “We are.”

“That’s good to hear,” Ross, says. “It was quite the adventure. Never had to fight pirates before...”

Khan’s lip quirks. “We do seem to have this nasty habit of surviving.”

Kirk grins. His crew is the absolute best in the universe, and they prove it to him every damn day.  
“You know what they say about the fittest.”

Ross laughs. “Thanks again,” he says to Khan. “Good night, gentlemen.”

Kirk and Khan bid him goodnight and enter the room, Kirk looking somewhat at loss with the plate of sandwiches still in his hands.  
“Right... uh...” He puts it down on the table. “I thought you might be hungry when you got here.”

Khan smiles benignly. “Not right now.”

Only five minutes ago, Kirk has thought about how they should sit and eat and talk and just generally acclimatise to the situation, but... Yeah. They’ve already done all that, haven’t they?  
One look at Khan tells him that the man is thinking the same thing.

They both take two steps towards each other, and neither is really sure if lips or hands reach the other, first, but then it doesn’t matter, because lips and hands work together to be as close as humanly possible.

This time, the kiss is too frantic to ever deepen, properly, their hands erratically trying to find a position that would ease the pent-up urgency that has accumulated all day. Eventually, even the nips and almost-bites are too much to keep up with, and they cling to each other – one of Kirk’s hands cupping the back of Khan’s head while the other presses the side of his face to keep his puffy breath in the crook of his neck, and Khan’s arms are wrapped around Kirk, one hand coming up to his shoulder and the other firmly holding the hip.

Khan presses a kiss into Kirk’s neck, though it’s hardly different from his position, so he bites the skin because there has to be _something_ , and Kirk’s answering moan makes him want to just fuse with him and become one.  
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,” he rasps against the thundering pulse in Kirk’s neck.

Kirk almost sobs a laugh in relief that he is not the only one who is apparently going completely crazy. They’ve been so close for so long... how is this so different, now?

“You have been completing my life for years,” Khan continues. “I did not realise what it would do to me if I was ever given an outlet.” He huffs out a small laugh.

Kirk’s eyes sting, and he tilts his head back. “Trust you to know the right words.” He moves only just far enough so that he can rest his forehead against Khan’s and look into his eyes.  
“I spent a large part of my day fearing I’d either regressed into a teenager or possibly a mental patient.” He considers that. “Which isn’t all that different, I guess.”

Khan laughs, joyfully, because, at this point, there isn’t really anything else to feel but joy.

Then they’re kissing again, less frantically but instead more deeply, both relishing in the fact that they are not alone in this, that they never have been.

It doesn’t take long for Kirk’s hands to grabble at Khan’s shirt, pulling it off along with the undershirt. Khan of course allows it, but Kirk still wants to fill the gap created by the momentary lack of kissing.  
“I really need to touch you, right now.”  
The moment the shirt is off, Kirk runs his hands up the solid chest and leans in for a heated kiss.

Khan’s hands in return go to the small of Kirk’s back, pulling at his shirts, as well, breaking the kiss only just long enough to get the restricting material off.

For a few more minutes, they fight the battle of their minds that are still struggling to keep up with the new possibilities and their bodies that are quite insistently ready for more.

“Bed?” Khan gasps into the kiss.

Kirk just nods, frantically, before he both pulls Khan back into the kiss and towards the bed, already trying to kick off his boots as he does it.

Khan follows suit, and they both laugh into the kiss as they stumble several times during their awkward manoeuvre.

They fall onto the bed – Kirk first, with Khan tumbling onto him – as they are in the process of opening each other’s trousers.

“Careful, careful!” Kirk bursts out, one hand steadying himself, the other instinctively going to Khan’s back.

Khan just smiles at him. “I’m fine, James,” he says, moving his hips downwards, making them both shudder and groan.

Kirk will be damned if he lets Khan do all the work. The man is supposed to take it easy for two days, dammit!  
He rolls Khan off him, having them both lie on their sides and facing each other.

They start an attempt to take their trousers and underwear off in one go, but they only end up leaving them somewhere around their thighs, as every single touch sends distracting shivers through their bodies, driving them crazy with want.

Kirk shouts a moan into their kiss, and his hips thrust forward when Khan moves them around, works a hand between their bodies and wraps his fingers around both their cocks.  
“Oh, god...” he groans and moves a hand to Khan’s ass, pulling him as close as he can. “This isn’t going to take long,” he gasps out, and his eyes fall closed.

“No,” Khan agrees, his body displaying an impatience that is entirely new to him. “Do you mind?”

Kirk manages something that resembles shaking his head. “Do it. Just do it, do it, do it,” he babbles.

And Khan no longer holds back and relentlessly gets them both off, never stopping or teasing; just focusing on bringing Kirk to orgasm as he cradles the man close with his other arm.

Kirk violently jerks in the secure hold, and his eyes fly open as he comes with a shout.  
When he becomes aware of his surroundings, again, he can still feel Khan move and breathe rapidly against him, and it brings him back just in time to look down and see Khan spill his own release.

Khan’s hand slows and stills, and Kirk takes it to hold the fingers tightly in his own, ignoring the wetness staining them.

They lie close, breathing each other’s air heavily, and slowly calm down, again.

After a long moment, Khan leans in for a brief, tender kiss and looks into Kirk’s eyes.  
“That was...”

“About time,” Kirk finishes, and Khan laughs, his whole body singing with pleasure. Kirk grins, then laughs, and then they’re kissing again, until Kirk realises that the zipper of his trousers is digging uncomfortably into his skin. He breaks the kiss and moves to pull at them.  
“Let’s just... get these off and...” he pauses and looks at Khan almost hesitantly (which is ridiculous, given their circumstances), “... lie here some more?”

Khan kisses away the reluctance. “Absolutely.”

They undress, and Khan lies back down, while Kirk pulls the blanket up, thinking that seeing his lover lying on his pillow, smiling at him and waiting for him must be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen...  
Their naked bodies fit together as if they’ve never slept a single night alone, and their kisses feel like home and wine and late summer nights with dodos circling lazily above... or perhaps like stars and discoveries and unknown life.

Their kiss ends, but they never stop touching, their fingers continuously finding new patches of skin.

“I actually went back to Bones, this afternoon,” Kirk says, soon feeling like he has to fill the silence, again.

Khan’s lip twitches. “Did the good doctor give you advice?”

Kirk can’t hold back a giggle. “Uh, yeah.” He clears his throat, still grinning. “We got him so flustered, today... Poor guy.”

Khan chuckles with him.

“But I didn’t want to risk anything,” Kirk defends himself. “You did just have him operate on your back after a battle injury.”

Khan’s smile is as teasing as the kiss that follows. “What did he say?”

“No acrobatics for you, and...” his shoulders shake in contained laughter, “... he said that – if I was so worried – I could have you lie back and enjoy the ride.”

Khan laughs, delighted and happy, and then buries his face in Kirk’s neck to kiss it. “Perhaps later,” he murmurs and lightly nips at the skin.

Kirk grins widely, hums and tilts back his head to give Khan better access. “Maybe after a sandwich or two. I could eat, now.” He makes no attempts to move, however.

“Mhm,” Khan hums in agreement.

The sandwiches remain where they are until much later in the night. The men in the bed just drift into sleep; sticky, warm, happy and at home.

 


	11. All Time High (Epilogue)

Khan stands at the railing on one of the upper outdoor squares in front of Starfleet Headquarters and looks out into San Francisco Bay.

He wears his grey standard uniform and looks like any other officer around. Nobody pays attention to him, and he is grateful for that, despite his mostly positive experiences.

The weather is lovely but not too hot, and people are busily and happily bustling around him and below him, as far as he can see. There is not a single remnant of the damage he has caused over a decade ago, naturally, but he is still somewhat surprised to actually see it.

He has already visited the memorial site the day before, and the _‘Section 31 Devastation’_ – as history has decided to call it – elaborated in detail, is listing him as a victim of the machinations rather than the perpetrator.  
That is an aspect that he would like to be grateful for without reservation, but it pains him in equal amounts. He suspects that this will never change, no matter how much therapy, support and love there is in his life. And it’s okay, really, it is; he even has a lover who understands that this is an aspect of what has made Khan into the man he loves and isn’t something to merely _‘get over’_.

It has taken Khan a long time to realise that living with his horrifying past isn’t something for him to deal with and then leave behind, but something to help him define who he wishes to be, instead.

He is well aware that, in any other time of Human history, this would not have been a possibility for him and his people. Hell, in any other accumulation of random circumstances with different people involved, he would still be frozen. Had history not been altered during the Nerada incident, Starfleet might never have militarised; Marcus might never have revived him… and a great number of terrible things would never have happened. But, as Ambassador Spock has once told him, it would have been merely a different great number of terrible things.

He knows that he is selfish, but he is so terribly glad that it was _these_ terrible things that have happened and not others.

There has been so much destruction and so many dead that he cannot hope to ever make up for it, even if he could somehow save the lives of the same number of people. Lives do not mathematically add up, after all.  
The only thing he can do is… all he can. And then you keep doing it.

He still doesn’t think that he deserves it, even after all these years, but he is selfishly glad that he has been given it.

 

“Lost in thought?” a soft voice asks next to him, and he turns to smile at her.

“Lieutenant,” he greets her.

“Lieutenant,” Uhura grins back.

They don’t speak for a while; she just joins him in gazing at the beautiful scenery. She knows quite well what he has been thinking about, and he is aware of it.

Eventually, she breaks the silence. “It’s like it never happened,” she says, sounding like she doesn’t know whether she should be worried or impressed.

Khan nods, slowly. “History usually is, given enough time.”

“As long as the lessons aren’t forgotten…”

Khan’s breath catches, and he breathes out, looking down for a moment. History. That is all it will eventually be. Including him.  
“Some of them tend to be remembered,” he manages to force out. Some of the lessons. Not all.

She nods, too. “That’s all anyone can expect of history, I guess.” She looks at him, feeling some of the pain he must be feeling at that moment and lays a hand on his arm.  
“Are you doing okay? Relatively?”

He has to smile at that and returns her look. “Relatively speaking…” his eyes briefly wander over the bay, indicating what he has once done to it, “… I am doing marvellously.”

She laughs a sad laugh that is also happy and nods, again. “Yes,” she admits, nodding, once more, firmly. “You are.”  
She peeks at his chest. “You’re not wearing it?”

Khan’s hand involuntarily moves to a breast pocket and runs a finger of the soft material hiding the metal and ribbon beneath. He shakes his head.  
“It is ludicrous for them to have given me this. I did not act out of bravery. I acted out of affection, loyalty and the sheer, blind fear of losing any of the people carrying it.”

She smiles softly. “Had you acted rashly and without thinking of anything but yourself, it wouldn’t have been brave.”

He can’t but return the smile. “True,” he has to concede the point. And had the situation been reversed, he would have said the same thing, and he damn well knows it. “I still don’t feel like wearing it here of all places.”

And _she_ has to concede _that_ point. “Yeah. No, you’re right.”

“I’m taking it home.”

“To go with the stories?”

He chuckles. “Yes. It might not be one for the history books, but it _is_ one for the story books.”

She laughs with him. “You should tell that one with the proper attire. Sword and hat. Maybe a parrot.”

They laugh some more, before he shakes his head, amused.  
“That was ages ago.”

“And you’ve done plenty of important, honourable and brave things, since.”

Khan smiles, allowing the sense of peace wash over him. “We all have.”

She loops her arm around his, leans against him, and they watch the afternoon sun slowly sink into an early evening.

 

Khan recognises the steps behind them even before two arms warp around both of them and smiles.

“Hey! The two hottest officers of my crew!” Kirk says, cheerfully. “Don’t tell Sulu I said that,” he adds as a stage-whisper and grins, moving around and coming to stand next to Khan, one arm around his waist.

Spock for his part moves closer next to Uhura.

“Done with work?” she asks him.

“Indeed, yes,” Spock confirms. “It was merely a finalising formality at this point.”

Kirk ignores them and studies Khan, frowning. “No…” he suddenly says and reaches for Khan’s hat, taking it off and leaving himself carrying both their hats, one in each of his hands. “Not even you can make this thing look good.”

Khan takes his hat to hold it himself, which leaves Kirk with one hand free to run his finger over the one of Khan’s pockets he knows holds the medal.  
Khan just smiles.

Spock takes another step. “Will you be joining us for dinner, tonight?” he asks the two men, and Uhura immediately joins in.

“As long as we’re still all here. It’ll be a while before we see you guys again.”

“Actually…” Kirk says before Khan can agree, “we have to catch our ride home, tonight.” And he knows that his surprise is a good one when Khan beams at him.

“You are…” Khan begins, but he’s being interrupted by a kiss.

“Yeah?” Kirk mumbles against Khan’s lips, grinning, before he kisses him again.

When the kiss ends, Uhura smirks at them. “I think we’re going to leave you two to it.”

“Wait,” Kirk insists before they can walk away and pulls her into a hug. She returns it, readily. “I’ll see you when we head out for the next round.”  
He doesn’t hug Spock, afterwards; he just grins at him and leaves further goodbye hugging to Uhura and Khan.  
“Commander,” he says, smiling contently at Spock.

“Captain.”

“I’ll be seeing you, sooner.”

Spock inclines his head. “Of course, Captain.”

“You guys be good,” Kirk says when Uhura and Khan are done hugging, and Spock and Khan nod at each other.

Kirk and Khan watch the two walk away for a moment longer before Kirk turns towards his lover again, pulling him into a slower kiss.

“Alright?” Kirk asks, referring to all the things connected to San Francisco. Things that now include a medal awarded for bravery.

Khan nods, leaning his forehead against Kirk’s. “I am… as much at peace as can be expected.”

Kirk sighs and kisses him, again, just a firm press of lips. Then he grins a bit. “And you love me.”

It has the desired effect and makes Khan grin back. “And you love me.” They kiss once more and then stroll towards a stairway to head to the bay, Kirk keeping a firm hand in one of Khan’s, leading him.

“When is that flight you got us?” Khan wants to know. “As I remember it, there wouldn’t be an official cargo run for another week.” Moonraker is still too small a colony to have regular transportation going its way.

Kirk shrugs, nonchalantly. “Yeah, but I was never going to wait a whole week. I checked the flight plans, earlier and found a ship that is heading out in two hours and going vaguely in our direction, so I spoke to the captain.”

“Ah. The infamous Kirk charm. I see.”

Kirk chuckles and swings their hands, playfully for a moment. “What did you do all of yesterday, by the way? We hardly got to speak undisturbed for five minutes…”

Khan pauses as if to brace himself. “I visited the memorial site.”

“Okay…” Kirk says, apprehensive but somehow still sounding encouraging.

“I met someone.”

That sets off several of Kirk’s alarm bells, and he stops. “Someone recognised you?”  
He knows that most people wouldn’t hold a grudge against Khan at this point, not after the work that has been done on all fronts, but some things are just personal, and there is no predicting those.

Khan looks at him, slightly amused. “That was always a possibility, James.”

Kirk frowns at him. “It wasn’t bad then?”

Khan pulls at his hand, and they continue walking. “No, it wasn’t bad. It was… interesting.”  
They walk for a minute before Khan adds, “It was someone I’d seen before, but it took me a moment to realise who she was.” His eyes lose focus. “She has a degree in DNA engineering, and – despite her apparently life-long insistence that she would never join Starfleet in any capacity – has enlisted to…” his lips quirk, “… keep an eye on it from the inside.”

Kirk does the math, and… his eyes widen. “Oh, Jesus Christ!” He stops again and stands in front of Khan. “The girl. The sick girl in London.”

“Yes,” Khan replies, calmly. “Though I also think she is convinced that Starfleet is on the right track, by now. She wouldn’t have enlisted just to make sure they don’t… fly off the handle.”

Kirk keeps staring, and Khan eventually takes pity on him.

Khan fidgets and briefly averts his eyes to put his thoughts in order. “It would appear that we have both dealt with surprisingly similar guilt issues.”

Kirk’s eyes darken. “Did people hold it against her? That she was used as leverage?”

Khan shakes his head. “No. According to her, everyone was…” he remembers the words, “… _‘understanding and unbearably careful’_ around her.” He seeks Kirk’s eyes with his. “We both know that people offering well-meant understanding is no guarantee that there will be no guilt.”

“Shit.” Yes. Kirk knows all about that. Another entirely different situation, but a familiar reaction, nonetheless.

“Yes,” Khan agrees. “It wouldn’t have occurred to me to draw the comparison, of course, but I suppose it is not entirely implausible.” He sends Kirk a look. “With quite a lot of offerings of well-meant understanding, that is.”

Kirk doesn’t like to react to Khan’s insecurities by dismissing or contradicting them when he can help it (which he knows he hasn’t always).  
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “You have that.”

“I do.” He doesn’t seem bothered or particularly melancholy, at all. So there is that, at least.

Kirk kisses him, then sighs, somewhat resignedly. “I wish you could see what I see, but I well-meaningly understand why you don’t.”

Khan chuckles. “It’s not like I don’t see your reasoning, James, I do, and would anyone else tell me that my past is theirs, I would say the same thing.” He pauses. “But I still have to live with the memory.”

Kirk doesn’t really have an answer for that. He’s never had it. “Can’t exactly wipe your mind…”

“No,” Khan minutely shakes his head. “And I wouldn’t want to. Our memories make us, and I selfishly want the life I have now.”

Kirk cups the side of Khan’s neck, making him lean into the touch and kisses him. Then an earlier thought reappears.  
“And she’s alright? Does she need any help?” They continue walking.

“She is a bright young woman and doing well. She will keep in contact, however.”

Kirk huffs an amused laugh. When Khan looks at him, curiously, he grins at him.  
“Everyone always says how _I_ have a way with people, but _you_ …” He shakes his head, chuckling. “You get along with the weirdest people. I mean, that you get along is weird; she’s not.” He grins a bit, remembering something. “Like you playing chess with Carol in your cell that day, remember?”

Khan tilts his head. “Interesting thought. The women’s reactions to their fathers show some similarities, though nobody has quite reached the scope of Admiral Marcus.”

“And your new friend _is_ aware of that, right?”

“Yes.”

Kirk nods. “Good. There’s no comparison, really.”

“No. But the daughters’ unnecessary guilt is easily comparable.”

Kirk licks his lips, then decides that he’ll just go for it. “As is yours.”

Khan smiles as if he’s either expected that or has been thinking it himself. Most likely both.

“It wasn’t that girl’s fault that she was ill enough for someone to use it against her father; it wasn’t Carol’s fault that her father would do what he did while forcing her to join him. That’s what we see in you, you know.”

“I do know, James.”

“You were seriously ill… through no fault of yours.”

Khan looks over the peaceful bay lying before them.

“And I know what happened was horrible,” Kirk sees the buildings glittering in the sunlight, too, and remembers what they looked like when he woke up from his treatment twelve years ago… “But given what we know now, it was desperately necessary, and we were at the last possible point to turn everything around. To turn Starfleet around. God only knows what Section 31 would have done, otherwise. We’d have gone to war, for Christ’s sake! We’d probably still be in it, given the odds.”

Khan silently has to agree. An outright war with the Klingon Empire for over a decade would have been… devastating, and it would very likely not be over.

Kirk sends Khan a steady look. “And you’re the poor asshole who has to live with the memory of bringing it about.”

Khan smirks and focuses on Kirk, again. “That poor asshole still got to be very happy because of you.”

Kirk almost misses the pun because of the seriousness of their discussion and does a mental double-take. Then he hides his face in the crook of Khan’s neck, both of them holding each other close, fighting their laughter.  
“That was fucking awful. I am appalled. _Appalled_!”

Khan chuckles (rightly assuming that a reply is not necessary), runs his fingers through Kirk’s hair, lets his eyes wander over the bay and breathes through the moment.  
“Visiting earth wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The memories and reactions tied to this place aren’t all bad. They’re complicated, but not all bad,” he admits.

Kirk peeks out from where his head still rests on Khan’s shoulder, then straightens and shares the moment of looking at what is in front of them. “That’s good,” he says and kisses Khan’s cheek.  
“But I also think that this planet does well enough without us. And I think it’s time for us to go home.”

Khan nods, reverently, still taking in the view. “It is.”

*

When they re-materialise on the square in front of the research facility, they are being expected by what looks like the whole colony. (They know it’s not – not with the number of new colonists – but it certainly does feel like it.)

Most of the present people welcome them by clapping, but Khan is immediately commandeered by a horde of children, while everyone lets Winona greet her son with a teary hug, first.

Winona loosens the hug to kiss her son and then run both her hands over his face. “You look well. You look so well.”

Kirk grins. “I really, really am.”

She can’t help but look at Khan, too, wiping her tears one-handed so that she doesn’t have to let go completely. “And so does he.”

Kirk nods. Khan _does_ look well. He hadn’t quite noticed the extent of the changes that were happening during their travels, but now that he can see him interact with the same children he’s interacted with five years ago… the changes are wonderfully, glaringly obvious.

Khan is on his knees, surrounded by children – some of which he’s seen in person before, others he’s only ever spoken to or seen through a screen – and he looks, simply put, radiant.  
Where there has always been a quiet reserve in his affection, before, there is now only open joy.

 

It takes hours upon hours before they manage to retreat from the festivities and into their home to go to bed and promptly fall asleep. They are even too tired to have a glass of wine or two in front of the house, even though they’d been looking forward to that for years.

 

Since their sleeping schedule is somewhat out of sync with Moonraker, it comes as no surprise to Khan that he is alone in bed when he wakes in the middle of the night.

He puts on a robe and finds Kirk standing in the living room, looking out a window. He steps up behind him, wraps his arms around his middle and kisses the back of his neck.

Kirk leans back and sighs. For a long moment, they just stand there, enjoying the closeness and the sense of _home_.  
“Remember that storm?” Kirk eventually asks, making Khan’s answering chuckle vibrate through him.

“Oh, yes.”

Kirk’s lips twitch. “You said beautiful.” He’s been thinking about that moment for a while, now. Neither of them had been thinking solely of the lightning, and neither of them had admitted to anything else…

“Hm…” Khan hums, sounding amused. “It was,” he agrees and lets his lips wander to the side of Kirk’s neck. “It still is.”

Kirk turns his head to catch a kiss, then leans back his head to look at Khan’s face. “God, you looked…” he stops, searching the right word, “… _statuesque_ in that light, it was ridiculous. Nobody has a right to look like that,” he complains, good-naturedly.

Khan smirks. “You looked as if you were flashing from the inside along with the lightning. A sparkplug, perhaps,” he teases.

Kirk laughs a bit. “Sparkplug, yeah?”

“Yes,” Khan says, nodding solemnly.

“Yeah, alright. Bones would agree, anyway.”

“Everyone in your crew would agree, James.”

“Oh, fine, everyone would agree.”

They stand contently for a while, before Kirk speaks, again.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Hm?”

“I mean, we’re going out again for five years, and then… I was thinking.”

Khan can clearly sense the seriousness in Kirk’s voice and moves to stand beside him, so they can look at each other. (Kirk keeps looking out the window, however.)

“I thought, maybe, we should let it rest, after that. Stay here.”

Khan doesn’t really know what to say to that. It’s tempting, but so is Kirk in his element in space.  
“You’d be bored,” he says, mostly certain that he is right about that.

“You know…” Kirk says, pensively, “… I don’t think I would be.” Now, he turns to look at Khan. “Ten years ago, yeah, I would have agreed without hesitation. I never would have thought that I could ever be _that_ person. I didn’t think I had it in me.” He sighs. “I’m not so sure that’s true, anymore.”

Khan has to agree that the Kirk today might have changed quite a bit, compared to the one he first met. They both have changed.  
“A lot can happen in five years.”

Kirk nods. “Yeah, and I’m aware of it. I guess I just wanted to know what it would feel like to say it out loud.” His eyes wander to the window, again. “But I was also thinking… they won’t let me do this forever, you know. They’d eventually want to give my ship to someone else. _Promote_ me or something.” He releases his breath, sharply. “I’d rather do and be with what makes me happy, here, than be made some admiral or other in Frisco.”

“I would have to agree with you there, but as I said, a lot can happen in five years. Other missions, some that do not take as long as the exploratory ones, might be in your cards…”

Kirk takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess. Just wanted to say it.” He smirks a bit. “And the world didn’t end when I did…”

Khan chuckles. “It was a near thing, though.”

Kirk laughs, takes Khan’s hand and pulls him out the front door and towards the basket chairs that are waiting for them.  
“Watch the sunrise with me?” he asks, pushing Khan into a chair and straddling him.

“We are decidedly on the wrong side of the house for that,” he notes but is already running his hands up Kirk’s sides.

“Oh, really?” Kirk says, leaning in for a deep kiss.

Khan decides that this doesn’t warrant any other response than welcoming Kirk’s tongue with his own.  
He soon realises that Kirk is not wearing anything under his robe any more than he himself is and lazily unties Kirk’s belt.

Kirk hums into the kiss, nips at Khan’s lips once and then leans back so he can see what his fingers are doing with the knot of Khan’s belt. He slides his hands into the robe and pushes it to the sides, taking another kiss.  
“Finally. It’s been too fucking long.”

Khan just smiles and lets Kirk do whatever he pleases, but not without parting Kirk’s robe, as well.  
“It’s only been five days, James.”

“Aw. How sweet. You’ve been counting,” Kirk teasingly murmurs into Khan’s neck and bites an earlobe.

Khan smirks, tilts his head back and pulls Kirk closer. “As have you,” he says, not doubting that the statement is true for a second.

Kirk moans when they’re pressed against each other. “Not only have I been counting,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his robe and taking out a small bottle, “but I’ve been preparing.”

“How very circumspect of you.”

“Have to be, knowing what you do to me.” He dives for a passionate kiss with no more hesitation, glides his hands into Khan’s robe and wraps his arms around his torso, pushing his hips forwards.

Khan grunts into the kiss at the sudden assault of sensations and moves his arms around Kirk’s shoulders, one hand cradling his head, the other just holding on tightly.

Kirk undulates his hips and sighs happily into the kiss when he feels Khan’s erection harden further.

“Just how prepared are you?” Khan asks, licking Kirk’s lips.

Kirk smirks, moving his hips, again. “Not that prepared. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of the honours.”

Khan chuckles against Kirk’s lips. “You know me so well.” He takes the bottle and moves his hands down and beneath Kirk’s robe, blindly applying the oil to his fingers. He takes his time; there is no rush. It’s early in the morning; the sun is still hidden and gradually brightening the black sky to lighter tones, and the night birds are only slowly making way for the daylight predators.  
And Khan has his beautiful lover in his lap, moving savouringly. He dribbles some oil down between Kirk’s cheeks, making him squirm and whimper into their kiss, and then follows with his fingers, just rubbing with hardly any pressure for the longest time.

Kirk doesn’t protest at the slow and lazy treatment; he is on the contrary very much in the mood for it, as well.

They slowly move against each other, Khan’s finger only occasionally pressing inside to the first knuckle for brief moments, enjoying the involuntary twitches at the small intrusion.  
By the time he pushes in his middle finger as far as it will go, there are hardly any more reactions, aside from a prolonged sigh against his lips.  
Khan moves his finger for a while, looking up into the pleasure-soaked expression on Kirk’s face, both of them feeling rather drunk.

Kirk sees the question before Khan can do so much as raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Khan doesn’t ask if Kirk is sure and just hands him the bottle with his free hand. Neither of them usually needs much stretching in preparation, especially not when lazy love-making has already liquefied every single muscle in their bodies.

Kirk slicks Khan’s erection as leisurely as they’ve so far done everything else and then first raises himself to his knees so he can lower his hips again to be filled.  
He breathes out at the familiar intrusion, taking his time, all the time in the world, never stopping or hesitating, until they are completely joined.  
The sparks shooting through his body wake his muscles enough to start a slow movement of his hips, making Khan reach for his cock with one hand while the other cups his face with so much love in his eyes that it’s (sometimes – like now) difficult to comprehend. But since they’re both beyond comprehension at this point, it hardly matters.

They move together, kissing and touching, only to break the kisses whenever they need to breathe and _see_.

Khan watches the morning dawn around them along with the passion, can see the blue of the sky slowly try to match the blue of Kirk’s eyes and thinks how his lover is so very much a creature of the morning.  
He moans when their movements become quicker and more desperate, careful to keep up the rhythm with his hand.

Kirk leans back in for a press of lips and rapid breaths. “Love you,” he gasps out, his eyes tightly closed and his hips slamming down hard, right before he throws his head back and yells in his completion.

“Yes, yes,” Khan encourages him, while his hand pumps Kirk through his orgasm. He only releases the slick cock, once Kirk whimpers from overstimulation and collapses into his firm arms.  
Khan forcefully thrusts upwards several times into the limp body and follows Kirk over the edge after mere seconds.

 

They stay within each other’s arms for long moments as their breathing slows, Kirk lazily kissing patches of skin in the crook of Khan’s neck.

“We missed the sunrise,” Kirk says, peeking over his shoulder at the first rays of sunlight brightening the patches of land before them.

“Oh, I didn’t,” Khan says, kissing Kirk’s forehead and rubbing his nose through the sweaty hair. “I was watching very closely.”

Kirk leans back to stare at him, incredulously and quite amused.

Khan smirks, lopsidedly. “What can I say? You’re beautiful in the mornings.”

Kirk – overcome by either emotions or hormones or both – takes a kiss, cupping the back of Khan’s neck.  
“Just in the mornings?” he teases, because he doesn’t really know what to do with a compliment like that one.

Khan’s quirky smile relaxes. “The morning is just the start.” 

And Kirk remembers his words to Doctor Stadi, aeons ago. _‘A start is pretty good.’_ He really had no idea, back then, did he?

“You have been my morning, from the beginning. My tomorrow. You gave me this life.”

Kirk has a sizeable lump in his throat. “That turned out to be pretty self-serving.” He has to blink back tears and hides them with a kiss. Apparently, love and sex and _home_ make him go all teary-eyed.  
He pulls a face when Khan eventually slips out of him, and he breaks the kiss.  
“I’ll be right back,” he says, manoeuvring himself out of the chair. “Don’t you dare move. I want a cuddle when I get back.”  
He rubs his traitorous eyes when he goes inside and smiles, widely.

Khan hopes that Kirk thinks of bringing him a flannel or something and ties his robe, again.

It turns out that Kirk did think of bringing a wet flannel, and Khan has to open his robe again for Kirk to clean him up.  
After that, Kirk sits on Khan’s lap – sideways, this time – and they just relax together.

Their hands lazily wander over arms and hair and cheeks, they kiss in between watching the colour of the sky change some more and just generally enjoy the peace after an eventful five years.

Kirk watches as the daytime moths – that have been named _‘jinx’_ during their absence – start fluttering in a unique formation in the distance. He smirks.  
“That reminds me that I’m getting hungry...”

Khan chuckles. “We should probably get dressed, anyway,” he agrees. “We will be accosted, again, soon, with demands for more stories.”

Kirk grins. “Bet you anything they want to hear more about the pirates.”

Khan groans, clearly not unhappy about the prospect, but complaining, nonetheless. “They weren’t even all that interesting.”

“It’s all in how you tell the story,” Kirk tells him, sagely.

Khan tilts his head, putting on a pondering face. “Lieutenant Uhura said something about hats and parrots...”

Kirk pauses a second, and then they both laugh so hard, he almost falls off the lap. He only just manages to stay seated.  
“We really need a loveseat out here... This is not safe,” he says, giggling and feeling ridiculously good and silly.

Khan is still laughing. “I’m sure that we will be able to acquire one.”

Kirk leans back, again, snickering every minute or so about _parrots_ , but other than that, they relax some more and watch the village down the hill slowly awaken.

“You know...” Kirk begins, pensive, “... I _can_ see myself staying here with you, eventually. When it gets to that.”

Khan can see himself be happy both in space and on Moonraker. He doesn’t have a particular preference... except for the small thought that has been developing, recently, about how, perhaps, his legacy wouldn’t be that bad a thing to pass on... Eventually. When it gets to that.  
There is one thing he does know, however.  
“We’ll see it when we get there.” 

It’s a miracle that they got to the point that they are at, now, in the first place. Their future is no challenge for them.

Kirk looks at him, certain and unafraid. “Yeah. We will.”

 

_End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me for the ride ♥ 
> 
> Please leave a comment on your way out... or if you think you caught all the _James Bond_ references I put into the story ;)
> 
> There's a list of the Bond references, [here](http://sorion.tumblr.com/post/62721980732/st-fic-moonraker-bond-references)... ;)
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **If you like my writing, please share my post on my RL[tumblr](http://ursulakats.tumblr.com/post/166323102961/qs-key-is-now-available-for-pre-order-release).** It would mean the world to this author ♥  
> 
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> (P.S. Don't feel like you're "stalking" me into RL. You're really not. And this is the only way for me to reach readers.)


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